A Fork In The Road
by Liv Wilder
Summary: Consider this hiatus boot camp. Post-ep for Squab. "Castle, in case you weren't paying attention, we've just been tested. Eric Vaughn was sent to test us," she tells him earnestly. "By whom? God? The universe?" he scoffs, still clinging to the pretense that he doesn't know what she's getting at. "You don't even believe in that stuff." COMPLETE
1. Chapter 1 - Signposts

_A/N: I watched 'Squab' for the first time yesterday. Thinking maybe I shouldn't have after this. Post-ep. 5x22 story. _

_Consider this hiatus boot camp. We're Castle survivors in training. And before you flame me, ask yourselves one question: have I ever let you down?_

* * *

_**Chapter 1 – Signposts **_

"Castle…where we goin'?"

She squirms before she says the words. They've been playing in her mind all day. She asks lightly, nervously, when he kisses her with more passion, more care and attention, than he has in days.

And she hates that this is because of the case, because of Vaughn, because his jealousy got piqued and her head got turned, because he realizes he's been taking her for granted, playing video games with anonymous geeky teens in far off lands instead of paying attention to her when she tries - emphasis on _tries_ - to seduce him. She's never had to work to get his attention in the bedroom before. She's genuinely shocked.

Yeah, she hates that this is because of reasons. Because the effort he's gone to tonight is _only_ because of reasons!

* * *

Spontaneity. They used to have that. Couldn't keep their hands off one another in the beginning. And now they're moving on to a new phase in their relationship, and since she's never stayed in one long enough to get to this point, it scares her. It scares her that they might be getting stale and she's not enough to hold his attention anymore. She never wanted sex to become a chore or a duty, she has romantic ideals she swore to herself she would uphold, and now she feels like maybe her expectations were immature, unrealistic or set too high. And let's face it, he has form in this area – two failed marriages and numerous short-lived affairs under his belt – and now they're here, with him _arranging_ to give her a full body massage as if she'd booked into a day spa. Instead of unhooking her bra with one hand, while pulling down her panties with his teeth like he used to the second they fell through the front door together after closing a case.

Her dissatisfaction frustrates her as much as it terrifies her. Because it's manmade. They were bobbing along the river of life just fine until Mr. smooth-as-silk Eric Vaughn appeared on the scene and upended their canoe.

'_There's nothing complicated about meeting a woman like you and knowing what to do,'_ the perceptive, presumptuous jerk had told her, flattering her, setting her mind spinning with questions, all her relationship insecurities bubbling to the surface, as sure as if he'd been sitting in on one of her old therapy sessions with Dr. Burke.

Castle is acting dumb for reasons she has yet to uncover, or he really is blissfully ignorant of the meaning behind her question. Either way, she's had enough. They've reached a bend in the river, a fork in the road, and it's time to pick a path.

* * *

He's smoothing down the sheet that's draped over the massage table he hired in especially for her. And what looked like a sweet gesture just a second ago, suddenly looks absurd; like papering over seismic cracks in the San Andreas Fault with rose petals.

"Castle, we need to talk," she tells him, watching the slight hesitation, the stiffening in his posture when he pauses while fussing with the sheet.

"Talk is for later," he tells her, smooth as ever, picking up an expensive bottle of massage oil. "Golden silence and a sensual massage awaits, Miss Beckett," he says, expansively, holding back the sheet.

When Kate doesn't move, he looks momentarily thrown. But then he quickly recovers himself.

"If you'd like to step out of your clothes. Or, if you prefer, your massage therapist would be more than happy to help you out of them," he adds, coming towards her with a saucy quirk of his eyebrow and a predatory grin on his face.

Kate crosses her arms and stares him down.

"What?" he asks, floundering.

"I asked you where we were going a moment ago."

"And I told you into the bedroom," he replies, face feigning innocence that Kate sees right through.

"That's not what I meant and you know it," she challenges.

"Kate, can't this wait?" his very question confirming her suspicions. "The rose petals are wilting and I…this took ages to set up," he adds, weakly, indicating the romantic bedroom scene.

"Castle, in case you weren't paying attention, we've just been tested. _Eric Vaughn_ was sent to test us," she tells him earnestly.

"By whom? _God? The universe?_" he scoffs, still clinging to the pretense that he doesn't know what she's getting at. "You don't even believe in that stuff," he adds, dismissively.

"_Screw_ what I don't believe in," she bellows, shocking him. "I believed in _us_, and look what almost happened. Our relationship has just been tested, Castle. So leave the rose petals, and…and the soothing music, and the fragrant oils, and come sit down with me. We need to talk," she says more gently, moderating her voice to control the fear, frustration and anger she's feeling.

* * *

She turns to go back into the living room to sit down, only to whirl back around at the sound of his voice.

"You think I don't know we were tested?" he bites back suddenly, gritting his teeth to tamp down his own flash of anger. "I _saw_ that guy for what he was from the outset. And _you_ didn't believe me," he spits, jabbing a finger towards her.

"I…" flounders Kate.

"I told you what his intentions were. But, no. You wouldn't have it. 'A guy like Vaughn can have any woman he wants', you said," he mocks, mimicking Kate's voice. "'Why would he be interested in me?' Have you looked at yourself lately?" he challenges. "_Have you? _Screw Bar Refaeli," he spits. "Because there's absolutely no contest."

"Castle…" says Kate weakly, hating that this important talk has instantly spiraled into an argument before they even get started.

"I tried to trust you. To give _him_ the benefit of the doubt, and five minutes into this thing you're _kissing him?_"

"Technically, he kissed me," insists Kate, indignantly.

"Oh, come on. You sound like the old me. _Technically?_" he sneers. "You can do better than that, Kate."

"_He_ kissed _me_," she repeats. "I pushed him away. And I told you about it. I could have said nothing, kept it a secret, Castle. But I told you."

"Yeah," he scorns, "only because Ryan forced you to explain why you two were standing so cosy together in front of that window. If that sniper hadn't shot at him at that precise moment you'd have had to spend the night in that suite with him. What then, Kate? Huh? What then?" asks Castle, walking away in an effort to calm down, heading to the drinks cart and a glass of single malt as his quickest route to oblivion.

"Pour me one," says Kate, walking slowly over to the sofa and sinking down onto the leather upholstery with a sigh.

* * *

"We were talking about you," she tells Castle quietly. "Right before he kissed me, we were talking about you."

"Comforting to know I was the last thing on your mind right before you puckered up," he says sarcastically, glancing over at her and then turning his back to slosh another finger of Scotch into his own crystal tumbler before pouring one for Kate.

"That's not how it was," she says grimly.

"Oh really? Then why don't you tell me how it was?"

"Castle," she sighs. "Do we have to rehash…?"

"Yes. You know what, I wasn't going to do this. But since you brought it up, yes, I would _really_ like to know just exactly what went on in that hotel suite. You took four years, _four goddamn years_ to kiss me, Kate, and this guy…_what_? He flashed his bank balance at you, was that it? A billion trumps a few million…"

"How dare you!" spits Kate, fury boiling inside of her, no matter the real guilt she feels over her own part in this.

"How dare I? I'll tell you how. I _love you_. And I thought you loved me. You finally told me so to my face. Took you a while. But I made allowances. Because I already knew how you felt about me, and while the words meant so much, being with you meant more…"

"Then why don't you show me…?" she interrupts, biting her lip as tears crest her eyelashes. "Why'd you stop showing me, Castle?"

The silence in the room is like a suffocating blanket snuffing out the flickering flame on a votive candle; it's all encompassing, deafening, terrifying.

"I…" he stutters.

"We're getting stale, Rick. And it scares me. I don't want us to be _that_ couple. You know the one. We've laughed at them plenty of times before. Those couples who sit in restaurants watching other people because they have nothing left to say to one another. Or…or they focus all their attention on their cell phones and Blackberries instead of on each other. I don't want that to be us."

"Neither do I. But that's not us, Kate."

"Not yet, maybe. But Patel, the kid in India…? Time was you would have been chasing me to bed, and now I'm having to dance in front of you wearing next to nothing just to get your attention. Do you know how cheap and desperate that made me feel?"

"I know and I said I'm sorry."

"But _are you_? One massage and you think that fixes everything?"

"I'm trying here."

"You want to know what happened in that hotel room? I felt _appreciated_. I felt valued, understood."

Castle sits in deathly silence, his fingers gripping the glass of Scotch like it's a life preserver, white-knuckled, while he rides out the rapids of their argument.

"You felt understood. Uh-huh," he nods, simmering. "Share all your secrets with Eric, did you?"

"No," replies Kate, hoarsely. "Of course not."

"Right. So, Eric gets sunny Kate. And I get the Kate I have to tiptoe around for four years. Don't push or she might run, Rick," he says to himself. "Don't tell her you're in love with her, it might scare her off. Don't _ever_ ask what this is between you two because…dammit, she'll just deny it."

"_Stop_," says Kate, sounding exhausted.

"Stop? Oh, no. I'm just getting started. He understood you, this guy? After _five whole minutes?_ That's some quick study. But then, hey, guy is a billionaire, so I guess that's his superpower – figuring out Katherine Beckett at a stroke," he says, voice full of sarcasm.

"I'm sorry. Okay. I made a mistake. I let my head get turned. But…he asked me if you and I were serious, and I had to ask myself if we were. I had to stop and think for a second before I answered. And you know why? Because we never talk about this stuff," she says, shaking her head. "We've drifted along for the past year, and don't get me wrong, we've had a lovely time, but…"

"Are you kidding me right now?" butts in Castle. "Are we _serious?_"

"Yes, we never talk…"

"I tried to throw myself in front of bullet for you. And then I spent three months beating myself up that I wasn't quick enough to save you, while you hid yourself away recovering. I have a _daughter!_" he yells. "I could have been killed…for _you_. It doesn't get more serious than that, Kate. You of all people should know that."

"I do…I know, and I'm…"

"Yeah, you're sorry. I know. I heard you the first time," he says dismissively, taking another slug of his whiskey.

"I have a daughter and she pitied me. Do you know what that's like? To have your kid look at you as if _they're_ the parent and you're the clueless, love-struck teen?"

"Castle…"

"Kate, I don't know what to tell you. I have spent so long being careful around you, trying not to scare you off, not to push you, minding your feelings, that I just don't know how to do the big stuff anymore," he confesses.

"So, we learn. _Together_, we learn how to talk this stuff through."

"Cheating is my number one deal breaker, Kate. You _know_ that," he grinds out, thumping a fist against the arm of sofa.

"I…Castle, I didn't cheat on you. I would _never_…" she says, appalled.

"_Really?_ Because you looked pretty tempted to me. And all it took was a fancy hotel suite, a glass of vintage Champagne and a few pretty words from a good looking stranger."

"Well, congratulations! You just made me sound like a tramp."

* * *

When Castle doesn't reply and doesn't move to apologize, Kate gets up and goes into the bedroom taking her glass of Scotch with her. She's tired, and he's just made his feelings abundantly clear. She can't stay here tonight and sleep beside him knowing that he thinks she did or would have cheated on him if she'd had just a little longer alone with Vaughn. She downs her drink, hissing when it burns the back of her throat, and then she places the glass on the nightstand and heads into the bathroom.

When he appears at the door she's finishing up packing a bag.

"Where are you going?" he asks, glass in hand.

"Home," says Kate quietly, taking a deep breath and then brushing past him.

* * *

_A/N: Okay, hit me with it. I can take it. I'll just be cowering…over there._


	2. Chapter 2 - Women Can't Read Maps

_A/N: Wow! On the response to chapter 1. Thank you so much. I loved reading all your comments. This storyline clearly hit a nerve. Glad I'm not alone in being frustrated here._

_Before anyone yells at me for the title of this chapter, can I just say that I have an excellent sense of direction, I've never lost my car in a mall parking lot, I know my way around a Rand McNally, and I do not hold the view expressed in the aforementioned title. It just sounded good. ;)_

_We're switching to Castle's point of view now._

_This chapter is dedicated to a dear friend who is very much in my thoughts today. The song lyrics below are a favorite of hers._

* * *

"_If you could soldier on_

_Headstrong into the storm_

_I'll be here waiting on the other side_

_Don't look back_

_The road is long_

_The first days of the war are gone_

_Take back your former throne and turn the tide"_

"_Cause if you never leave home, never let go_

_You'll never make it to the great unknown till you_

_Keep your eyes open, my love_

_So tell me you're strong, tell me you see_

_I need to hear it, can you promise me to_

_Keep your eyes open, my love"_

_**- Need To Breathe**__, "Keep Your Eyes Open"_

* * *

_**Chapter 2 – Women Can't Read Maps**_

"Kate," sighs Castle, already sounding defeated when she steps around the massage table with her bag in her hand and attempts to brush past him.

After the argument they've just had the bedroom suddenly looks tawdry - like some supercharged Thai massage parlor - with its dizzying array of flickering candles, incense burner, scattered petals that seem so derivative and unoriginal now, and the _muzak_… What the _hell_ was he thinking with that?

Then there's the table itself. When he looks at it now, it makes him think of fat, hirsute businessmen wearing cheap cologne and Walmart underwear made from man-made fibers, and beautiful, exotic, young girls, forced to give 'happy endings' for lousy tips left on rickety nightstands, if they're lucky, by sweaty hands with too-tight wedding rings embedded into grossly swollen fingers.

Great idea at the time. Doesn't look so hot now.

* * *

He goes to reach for her, but Kate swerves past him, batting his hand away at the last minute.

"Just…don't," she says, arcing her arm high and wide to avoid his grasp.

She heads to the kitchen to collect her cell phone and charger, which are plugged into the wall next to the kettle, and then she goes to the hall closet, jamming a random pair of shoes, her favorite scarf and her sneakers into the bag, before grabbing one of her coats and shrugging it on.

Castle stands helplessly in the middle of the living room, all out of words to stop her leaving. He watches while she flicks her own hair out from under the collar of her navy raincoat – something he takes great pleasure in doing for her these days – and then digs around in her purse until she finds her keys. She has both sets, for her own apartment and his loft, on one keychain, and he's fearful for a second that she's going to take his key off and leave it behind. But she just checks that they're there and then drops them back inside her purse with a noisy, metallic clatter.

She does at least turn around before she opens the front door, and he's grateful for that; that she can be civil enough to say goodbye to him when he's beginning to think that maybe it's more than he deserves. He really pushed the boundaries tonight, and though he isn't backing down on anything he said – except maybe that he knows (hopes) she wouldn't cheat – the _way_ he said some of that stuff…

* * *

"I'll call you, okay?" Kate says quietly, and it's her face that kills him. It's this heartbreaking mass of contradictions. She's trying to be bright and breezy about it - brave-faced Beckett. But he can tell she's on the verge of crying, her lower lip trembling just slightly, and that just crushes him.

"Kate. Please? _Stay_, so we can talk about this," he implores her, somehow finding the energy and the gumption to put one foot in front of the other to carry himself towards her.

She stands quietly waiting for him, her head bowed, looking at the floor. Only when he stops a couple of feet away from her does she answer him.

"I'm exhausted. I don't think we should do this now, Castle. We'll only hurt one another more. This is too important to…"

She shakes her head, and he reaches for her hand. She lets him take it and he holds onto it for the longest time. But then silence swallows them up again and Kate stirs first.

"I should go," she says quietly. "It's getting late."

When she drops her bag on the floor by her feet, his heart soars. When she throws her arms around his neck to hug him, the tears come.

"I love you," she whispers, burying her face in his neck, and he holds her so tightly that he almost lifts her off her feet.

But then all too soon she's withdrawing again, swiping at her own damp cheeks and stooping to pick up her bag.

He's standing dumbstruck inside his own entranceway when the front door closes, and he's still there when the elevator doors slide shut and the familiar 'ping' sounds to announce his girlfriend's departure.

He's still standing there ten minutes later when Martha comes home, and what comes next isn't pretty…

* * *

"You said _what?_" asks Martha, once they are both settled on the sofa, his mother's wine glass filled dangerously close to the brim. "Oh, stupid boy," she admonishes him, taking a slug of her wine and leveling him with a disbelieving look, before leaning in to pat his hand affectionately; a crumb of maternal comfort.

"I know. I know," he says, shaking his head, tormented enough by everything that's happened without having his mother rub salt in the wound. "But _you_ were the one who said she wasn't totally committed to our relationship. In fact, '_not committed at all'_ were your exact words, as I recall," he adds bitterly, taking another long draw on his Scotch.

"Not to you, darling. I merely meant that she didn't have a ring on her finger," points out Martha. "And why you haven't remedied that before now is a mystery to me. All that time you pined for her like some lovesick puppy. All that soul searching and pacing, and those long, dry months of celibacy. That wasn't natural, I'm telling you. A man of your age and…_capabilities_," she adds, awkwardly, giving her son the once over.

"I'll take that as a compliment," replies Castle dryly, swaying when he stands to refresh his glass.

"So, why oh why, when you finally have the woman practically living under your roof, you would hesitate at the final hurdle, I fail to understand, Richard," continues Martha, seemingly oblivious to Castle's pain.

"_Why?_ How long have you got?" he asks, sullenly, slumping back down on the sofa.

"Oh, darling," sighs Martha, tilting her head in sympathy at her son. "For you? As long as it takes."

"Lots of reasons. There are _lots_ of reasons. So many I wake up during the night sometimes in a panic over this exact issue. I thought if I brought it up or straight out asked then she'd say no. It was too soon. She needed more time. And things have been going so well between us… Or at least I thought they were," he says, bitterly.

"Beckett doesn't agree?"

"She said we're getting stale."

"And what do you think?"

"I think…I think that we're comfortable with one another," he shrugs.

"_Stale!_" declares Martha, waving her hand in front of Castle's face dismissively.

"What's wrong with comfortable?" he protests.

"Old slippers are comfortable, elasticated pants are comfortable, _sneakers_ are comfortable, _footed pajamas_ are comfortable, but you don't see _me_ wearing them, do you, darling?"

"So…_what?_ I should run my relationship according to your fashion sense now?"

"No. My point, Richard, is that relationships take effort. They need sparkle to keep them alive, nurtured, the flames fanned, the heart set a pitter-patter with poetry and thoughtful little gifts, date nights, kindnesses, compliments and the occasional surprise. Not to mention something of a long-term plan. Women, Katherine Beckett especially, like a roadmap. They want to know where their life I going and they want to know that you're planning ahead with them."

"That's what Kate asked me tonight. That's what sparked this whole thing off."

"Well, then, there you go. You should listen to your mother more often," she tells him, taking a long slug of wine.

"I do. I did. I went out and got her a ring," admits Castle, scrubbing two hands down over his face, while Martha falls back in her seat in astonishment.

"You bought her a ring? Oh, how wonderful! Then what's the problem, kiddo?" she beams, patting his knee.

"Eric Vaughn is the problem."

"He got her a ring too? Because I don't want to offend you, and I'm sure you did a great job with your selection, but I'll bet that man knows gemstones," she coos thoughtlessly, looking longingly at her own ring-clad fingers.

"_Mother!_" exclaims Castle, about ready to empty the entire tumbler down his throat in one go. "What _is it_ with this guy?"

"You tell me," says Martha, primly.

"He turned her head, okay," admits Castle. "All those months I pined for her?"

"Try_ years_," sighs Martha.

"Years. Whatever. You were right. I was pathetic. This guy, he has her charmed inside five minutes."

"But you did all the hard work, darling. Don't you see? You laid the groundwork. Do you even remember what Beckett was like when you first started following her around? Forgive me, but that girl had issues. _Major_ issues. And_ you _are the one who opened her up. _You!_ You are the one who made her happy, who made her laugh, who brought her into this family and showed her that life was worth living again. All of that is down to you. The only reason she's looking for more now is because you opened her eyes and her heart to the possibilities. Don't let someone else take credit for your hard work, Richard. Certainly not this Vaughn character. Although, let me tell you…" adds Martha, conspiratorially.

"If you were ten years younger. Yes, mother, I know," interjects Castle, shaking his head at his mother's predictably cutting remark.

* * *

"Richard, I know that you feel she betrayed you and your hurting right now. But she hasn't. Not really. I don't think that girl has it in her to betray you, or anyone else for that matter. She's far too honorable a person for that. But she loves you deeply. That, anyone can see."

"I know she loves me. I just don't know if it's enough. What if I screw this up like I screwed up with Meredith and Gina, huh? What then?"

"Nonsense. Those two imposters are not Kate Beckett," Martha tells him, fiercely. "And can I remind you that _she_ is the one pushing for some kind of a commitment here, even if it is just a discussion about where you go next. Don't you think that's a turn up for the books? Isn't that what you'd call _real progress _from the woman who hated the sight of you for the first…oh, I don't know, shall we call it a round year and be done with it?"

"But she kissed him," says Castle, with real steel in his voice, ignoring his mother's unpleasant trip down memory lane.

"Not from what I heard."

"So _he_ kissed her. Potato potahto. She still put herself in that position. And drinking Champagne with the guy, when she's on duty and supposed to be protecting him? The Beckett I know would never do that."

"Oh, and you've never made a mistake, darling. You've never been inveigled into a situation you later regretted? Because a certain Kristina Cottera springs to mind. On this very sofa, if I'm not mistaken," says Martha, turning her nose up at the leather couch.

"That was different."

"How? You tell me how it was different? You know, you are doing a great job of dishing out the blame tonight. But when it comes to your own wounded pride…"

Martha shakes her head and sighs, and then she leans forward to grip Castle's hand. "Do not let this one go, my boy. I am _warning_ you. You let Katherine Beckett walk away now and you will regret it for the rest of your life. Believe me. I've been there. I know. Don't be a fool, Richard. You can get past this. Question is, do you want to? Do you love her badly enough to forgive her?"

* * *

Martha rises from the sofa, the colorful folds of her dress dropping to hang around her slender frame, and Castle stands with her.

"Go to bed, darling. Things will look better in the morning," his mother tells him, tilting her face to receive the kiss that Castle plants on her cheek.

"Night, mother," he says, accepting the hug she offers him.

When he sinks back down onto the sofa, the first thing he reaches for is his phone. He checks for messages, but his voicemail inbox is empty and there are no new text messages either.

He gets up stiffly, dumping his glass on the kitchen counter, and heads to the bedroom. A pitiful scene confronts him - wilted, shriveled rose petals littering the bed and staining the sheets, the candles burned down to melted, watery pools of wax surrounding blackened stumps of wick, the air thick with cloying, sandalwood-scented smoke…

He turns his back on the whole sorry mess and slowly makes his way up to the guest room.

Things will look better in the morning… They damn well better, he thinks, toeing off his shoes before falling into bed fully clothed.

* * *

_A/N: Will try my hardest to keep this to a chapter a day. I know it's killing you. Me too._

_P.S. Apologies if you buy your underwear at Walmart – no offense intended. ;)_


	3. Chapter 3 - Men Won't Ask For Directions

_A/N: So the debate continues to rage over who is at fault here. Loving your arguments. Martha seemed to stir up a lot of feeling too - good mother or bad relationship advisor? Certainly not a role model for happy-ever-after, that's for sure._

_This chapter is written from Kate's point of view._

_Thank you to Indigobee for today's song lyric suggestion. Totally perfect for the upcoming finale and the title of this story!_

* * *

"_Thought I knew my mind like the back of my hand,_

_The gold and the rainbow, but nothing panned out as I planned."_

"_Up on the watershed, standing at the fork in the road_

_You can stand there and agonize_

_Till your agony's your heaviest load._

_You'll never fly as the crow flies, get used to a country mile._

_When you're learning to face the path at your pace_

_Every choice is worth your while."_

_**-Indigo Girls**__, "Watershed"_

* * *

_**Chapter 3 – And Why Men Won't Ask for Directions**_

By the time Kate reaches the street, she has Lanie on the line.

"Honey, what happened? You sound terrible," soothes her friend.

"The whole Vaughn thing blew up when we got home tonight. It got really ugly, Lanie. Some pretty awful things were said…"

Kate hears a noise in the background that sounds suspiciously like her friend shushing a muttering Esposito.

"Look, I'm sorry. You have company. I shouldn't have called. We can talk tomorrow, Lanie," reassures Kate, quickly backing off, more than a little mortified to have shared this much with her. "I'm just going to go home. It'll be fine."

"Nonsense. Get your sorry ass over her, girlfriend. I won't take no for an answer. So don't make me come fetch you myself," she sasses.

"What about Espo?" asks Kate, letting her bag bounce against her shins, as the wind whips around the corner of Crosby Street, lifting her hair and tossing it across her face.

"Espo who?" asks Lanie, playing dumb. "Just get over here. I have wine," she sings, as an enticement, "and it's already chilled. There's a glass with your name on it."

"Fine. If you're sure," sighs Kate, walking over to the curb to hail a passing cab.

* * *

When she enters the lobby of Lanie's building, the doorman is snoozing behind the front desk. She stands out in the hallway waiting for the M.E. to open her front door, feeling awkward and out of place.

When the door swings open, Javi is standing behind her best friend scowling, his hair sticking up, jaw dark with scruff, backpack in hand. Kate looks at her feet, wishing the ground would swallow her up.

"I'm…Javi, look, I'm sorry I ruined your night," she tells the detective, patting him on the shoulder as he bypasses Lanie to head out into the hall.

"Not a problem," he grits out, giving Lanie a long, fond look. "You need me to talk to writer boy? Man to man?" he asks, raising his fists and bouncing on the spot like a boxer.

"Eh, no," laughs Kate. "I think if anyone needs some sense knocked into them, then in this instance, that would be me," she admits, ruefully.

"Hey, you guys are solid, Beckett. You'll work it out," Esposito reassures her, lightly punching her shoulder as he passes, in what is clearly meant as a gesture of brotherly love.

Lanies steps back to allow Kate to enter her apartment and Kate carries on through to the living room, allowing the M.E. and her boyfriend a moment alone to say goodbye.

She drops her bag by the sofa and goes to the counter to drape her coat over the back of a stool, lifting two glasses down from the cabinet above the sink for the wine.

"Lanie, I'm so sorry," says Kate, the instant her friend reappears. "I ruined your night."

"No, honey. You spared me from that man's snoring, is what you did. I owe you a favor, girl. Now let's get that wine opened," she says, giving her friend a quick hug.

* * *

They settle at opposite ends of Lanie's sofa, each clutching a glass of rosé, a large bowl of popcorn resting on the cushion between them.

"So, why don't you tell me exactly what happened?" drawls Lanie, taking a handful of popcorn and waiting for Kate to speak.

"I screwed up, is what happened. I let that guy Vaughn flatter me and charm me... It's like I forgot who I was for a second. _Drinking_ on the _job_...? What was I _thinking_? And I am ashamed to say I almost forgot who I'm in a relationship with too. I…" shrugs Kate, at a loss to explain her behavior.

"_You?_ How'd _that_ happen?" asks Lanie, clearly surprised to hear this kind of behavior coming from Kate.

"I…" she sighs, grabbing a throw pillow and hugging it to her chest. "Castle was right, I let some pretty words in nice surroundings, some expensive Champagne and easy conversation with this guy get to me. He acted like he _knew me_, Lanie. He got inside my head. As if…as if, after five minutes in my company, he just _got me_. I'm trained to deal with this kind of thing. I should _know_ better than that. But, no. I, like a fool, fell for it."

"Why? I thought things with you and Castle were going great?"

"Things with Castle _have_ been going great. Up to a point. I…I don't know. I just feel like maybe we're stalling, you know? Like things are on the point of getting just a little too comfortable, a little routine."

"You saying the spark is gone already?" asks Lanie, in surprise.

"Not the spark exactly. Just that the initial rush of desperate, secretive, can't keep our hands off one another excitement has quieted down. _I'm_ the one initiating things more often. Like the other night, he had to be persuaded away from playing some online video game with a random kid in India…_for sex,_" confesses Kate, rolling her eyes and shaking her head.

"_No!_" declares Lanie, scandalized. "_Castle?_ Mr. Playboy himself? Bachelor number 9?" she laughs.

"Don't laugh. It isn't funny. I should be worried, right? That I'm dancing around half-naked in front of him and he's stopped paying attention to that?"

"No, honey," soothes Lanie. "He's just…_comfortable_ with you is all. You guys are practically living together, right? It can't be steamy sex on the kitchen counter all the time. Or then _that_ would get boring."

"Still, I would like to know where we're headed."

"So why don't you just ask him?" encourages Lanie.

"I did. Tonight. He drags me off sofa to perform some ridiculous ceremonial chord-cutting on his video game controller. His idea of showing me he knows he took me for granted. Then he opens the bedroom door to this whole romantic, rose petal strewn scene he's created, with scented candles, classical music, the full works. And there's this professional massage table set up at the bottom of the bed, and he's planning to give me a full body massage."

"Hey, lucky girl," whistles Lanie. "So, I don't get it. What's the problem?"

"He kissed me, and all I could think was that this was only because of Eric Vaughn. This whole setup. All the effort he'd gone to was because Vaughn showed an interest in me, Castle got jealous, and suddenly he's making an effort to impress me again. It felt _forced_, Lanie."

"So what did you do?"

"I asked the question Vaughn put in my head. I asked him where we were going. And you know what he said?"

"What?"

"He said '_into the bedroom', _like it should be obvious."

"He didn't?" laughs Lanie, covering her mouth with her hand.

"He absolutely did. And I tried to give him the benefit of the doubt. Thinking maybe he misunderstood the question. But…" she shakes her head, "he knew."

"And this Vaughn guy, you liked him? Cause so far you've mentioned him _a lot!"_

"Lanie, that's not the point," squirms Kate, drinking her wine to hide her discomfort.

"Oh, I think it's _absolutely_ the point. Were you attracted to him or not?"

"_Castle_ was attracted to the guy," insists Kate, trying to laugh her friend's astute question off.

"No. Castle wanted to _be_ the guy. There's a difference."

Kate rolls her eyes, leaning back against the sofa cushions and then she runs her hand through her hair, stalling for time.

"I…" she sighs, looking imploringly at Lanie, as if to say 'you're really going to make me answer this?' But Lanie just nods and waits, and so Kate sits up straighter to try to figure out what to say. "I might have found him attractive…yes," she confesses quickly, eventually raising her eyes to look at her friend.

"_See!_ I knew it," exclaims Lanie, clapping her hands.

"_But_…" resumes Kate, holding up her hand to silence her friend. "I _love_ Castle. And that is worth so much more than some passing attraction. We've…well, you've been there the whole time, Lanie, while we struggled and fought our way to one another through what felt like a vat of molasses at times. I don't want to lose that. But I'm starting to wonder if he'll ever be ready to make this anymore serious than it already is."

"And are you?"

"I at least want the chance to talk about it. Vaughn asked if we were serious and I couldn't answer him right away because we've never talked about any of that stuff."

"And whose fault is that?" asks Lanie. "It's as much _your_ responsibility as it is _his_, Kate. You can't lay this all on Castle."

"I know. I know," concedes Kate, grabbing a handful of papery popcorn. "So what do I do?"

"You have to sit him down and ask him again. Just straight up ask him _where_ you're going, and don't forget to tell him what _you_ want."

* * *

Kate nods quietly absorbing Lanie's advice, and then she sips her wine for a few moments, letting all sorts of thoughts swim around inside her head.

"You know, it did feel good to be valued today," she confesses, after a moment. "Listened to, appreciated, understood…_recognized_. That's how he made me feel," she explains, sounding a little wistful.

"Are we talking Castle here or are we back to Mr. #1 on the New York Times Rich list?"

"Vaughn," replies Kate, trying to hide her shame in her glass.

"Are you _serious_ right now?" bites Lanie, surprising Kate with her passion.

"What?" asks Kate, when Lanie's question explodes into the room.

"Appreciated? Valued?_ Understood?_ Kate, what exactly do you think that man spent the last four and a half years doing, while you kept him waiting out in the cold? You think he was sitting by your desk filing his fingernails? Because I was there and I can tell you he was _studying_ you like you were under a goddam electron microscope. No one knows you better than Richard Castle. _No one_. In fact, he knows you better than you know yourself most days."

"So why doesn't he act like it, Lanie?" whines Kate, a tear bubbling up to run down her face, after her own shameful remarks.

"He's not a mindreader, sweetie. No one is. And because you've beaten him down, honey. He's _scared_, Kate," she says more softly. "He spent so long being careful around you, trying not to push you or scare you off, that I'm surprised the man knows which way is up anymore."

"Was I really that awful," croaks Kate, her brow furrowed in concern.

Lanie nods wordlessly and then leans in to squeeze her friend's hand.

"You were protecting yourself, Kate. Your mother's death made you vulnerable, afraid to love the people closest to you. But you're over that now. And Castle is the one who deserves the credit for getting you there. You have to face up to that and stop running when things get a little tough."

"I've let him down, Lanie," she sighs, running her hands through her hair in frustration again.

"Hey, now. Nothing you guys have said so far is irreparable, and by the strict letter of the law you haven't cheated on him either. But you've changed, Kate. You've grown. You just have to realize how much and _show _him, let him in, so that you can continue to change _together_. You want more out of life and that's wonderful. And maybe that means marriage or a family…who knows. This Vaughn character probably sensed that need in you, and he seemed to be dangling some great possibility in front of you, while Castle looked like he's dragging his heels and playing it safe. But he's only working at what he thinks is _your_ pace, to _your_ timetable, Kate. That's all."

"But what if he doesn't want those things? What if marriage is a deal breaker for him after Meredith and Gina?"

"You'll only know the answer to those questions if you ask _him_, honey."

* * *

They sip their wine in silence for a few moments, and Kate takes some time to gather her thoughts, distilling the good and the bad from the last few days.

"How did you get to be so smart anyway?" asks Kate, taking on board everything Lanie just said.

"They don't hand out M.D. qualifications with boxes of Cheerios, you know," she jokes, giving Kate's knee a nudge with her foot.

"You've been a great help tonight. Thank you for listening."

"Can I just say one more thing, Kate?" asks Lanie, her head softly tilted as she observes her friend.

"Sure. Anything?"

"Since I've known you, I've never seen you be as happy as you are with Castle. You look amazing. Just…_stunning_. When you guys are together, Kate, you _glow_. In my book, man does that for you, you hold onto him with both hands, girlfriend. And if Castle isn't ready to move forward right now, I'd say it would pay you well to wait. He waited for you after all."

"So...what? Are you saying turnabout is fair play?" asks Kate, trying to understand her friend's advice.

"No. I'm saying turnabout in this instance would make perfect sense. This guy is a _keeper_. Guys like Vaughn, they look good' til they're lookin' at someone else. But it's all a big con trick. They're always after the next big deal, chasing the next high, running after the newer, younger model. Castle isn't like that. He waited for you for four years, he proved himself to you, and he _sacrificed _for you. Hell, the man even tried to take a bullet for you, Kate. Don't let that go just because you want a little more excitement in your life. _Make_ that excitement happen for both of you."

"You're right. You're right. I've made a stupid, selfish mistake. I don't know what I was thinking. I felt taken for granted, when turns out I was the one doing the taking. Thank you, Lanie. Seriously. I owe you," nods Kate, placing her glass down and standing.

"What are you going to do now?" asks Lanie, standing with her.

"I'm going to go home, get some sleep, and then, tomorrow, I'm going to make this right."

"Good girl. Pick you up for breakfast in the morning?" asks Lanie, checking her watch.

"Can we take a rain check? When I said 'home', I actually meant the loft. I really need to clear this up before things get anymore out of hand."

* * *

When Kate unlocks the front door to the loft, she tiptoes inside, scanning the sparsely lit ground floor for signs of life. All is quiet, the only light coming from a floor lamp in the far corner and the faint greenish glow from the digital display above the stove. She carries her bag over to the bedroom, but when she pushes the door open, she sees that it's empty – still a scene of sybaritic devastation, just as they left it. The bed is untouched, the rose petals browning pitifully, and…

"Want a hand clearing that up?" whispers a small voice.

Kate jumps, whirling round to find Alexis standing not far behind, peering past her into the bedroom at the mess.

"I hope I didn't wake you," whispers Kate.

"What time is it?" asks Alexis, yawning.

"After one," replies Kate, checking her father's watch. "Where's…?" she asks, raising one exhausted arm to point to the empty, flower-strewn bed.

"Dad's snoring in the guestroom, upstairs," the girl informs her.

Kate spies Castle's discarded crystal tumbler sitting on the countertop, the faint glow of rusty-amber still coating the bottom of the glass, and it makes her feel sad and guilty to know that she led them both here to this, after everything they've been through together.

"He loves you, you know," says Alexis quietly, startling Kate and making her face flush with shame.

"I know. I love him too. Don't worry," she says, lightly squeezing the girl's arm. "We can fix this. In the morning, we can fix it together," she tells Castle's daughter, and Alexis doesn't know whether Kate means their relationship or the state of the bedroom.

"Come on. Let's get some sleep," says Kate, putting her arm around Alexis' shoulders and guiding her towards the stairs.

* * *

They say goodnight outside Alexis' room, and then Kate pads the extra distance down the hall to the guestroom. Castle is indeed snoring. She can hear him just before she gets to the door - the level, slow repeat of a whiskey-induced snuffle. She smiles to herself as she reaches for the door handle, feeling deep inside that she's doing the right thing by being here, hoping Castle will see it that way too.

She strips off her coat and boots, then her jeans and sweatshirt, trying to be as quiet as possible. When she sets her phone down on the nightstand, Castle finally stirs.

"Hey," she whispers, when he rolls over in a rustle of twisted sheets to blink at her in confusion. His cheeks are flushed and a jagged crease runs across one eye and down over his cheekbone like a scar. "Go back to sleep," she tells him, gently, climbing in beside him.

Castle just stares at her as she slides down under the covers, moving closer to get in behind him.

"You came back?" he says eventually, still sounding confused.

"Shhh. We can talk in the morning," she reassures him, putting light pressure on his shoulder to get him to lie down with her.

"You came back," he repeats, and Kate smiles to herself; thinking he is so obviously out of it.

"I never went anywhere. Not really," she tells him, pressing a kiss to the smooth, pale skin exposed beneath the sleeve of his t-shirt, before closing her eyes.

Castle lies on his back in the dark for an hour after that, listening to Kate sleep soundly beside him; his heart aching, his head confused, whole inches of space and a chilling, emotional gulf between them.

* * *

_A/N: *__Puffs and pants*__ "Made it!" Onwards to tomorrow's update. Should be interesting. Liv_


	4. Chapter 4 - Divided Highway

_A/N: Reviews continue to be amazing – detailed, passionate and insightful. Thank you! Most people did say they don't want Castle giving in and crawling back to Kate as usual. Well, y'all asked for it…_

_Today's perfect Caskett lyrics were suggested by BlueOrchid96._

* * *

"_I set out on a narrow way many years ago_

_Hoping I would find true love along the broken road_

_But I got lost a time or two_

_Wiped my brow and kept pushing through_

_I couldn't see how every sign pointed straight to you_

_[Chorus:]_

_Every long lost dream led me to where you are_

_Others who broke my heart they were like Northern stars_

_Pointing me on my way into your loving arms_

_This much I know is true_

_That God blessed the broken road_

_That led me straight to you"_

_**- Rascal Flatts**__, 'Bless The Broken Road'_

* * *

_**Chapter 4 – Divided Highway**_

When Castle finally gets up, his mouth dry and head pounding from the depression-induced whiskey session the night before, he finds the bed beside him empty, the sheets cold, and he wonders if maybe he only dreamt that Kate came home last night. But then he spots her raincoat discarded on the chair in the corner, her boots lying like felled trees in a haphazard heap on the floor, and he knows for certain that she did.

He should be pleased, he tells himself, that the Kate Beckett who ran a mile from anything difficult, personal or emotional for years is now able to turn back, to come to him, willing to talk. But instead of being thankful and proud, he feels hollowed out inside: like a pumpkin at Halloween; dead, empty and disappointed, despite how much progress and faith in him his partner has just displayed.

He had hoped they were different, special. But now all he feels is desperately sad.

As he walks downstairs, his body a protesting, leaden thing, he hears the quiet buzz of happy conversation coming from the kitchen, a bubble of laughter, the scrape of a chair: the sounds of a household beginning a lazy Saturday.

From the half-landing he can see that the massage table has been packed away, and is now sitting propped up by the front door waiting for the rental company to come and collect. The windows in the bedroom and his office have been opened and a cool, spring New York breeze is blowing through the entire loft, airing it out.

* * *

"Hey, dad," calls Alexis, brightly, waving to him from her spot at the counter.

Kate is sitting with her, her hair pulled up into a high ponytail that emphasizes her long neck and elegant bone structure. She looks so youthful and beautiful wearing a simple, faded-pink sweatshirt and yoga pants. From this distance, the two special women in his life appear more like sisters than the approximation of mother-daughter they really are. Watching them now - how easily they interact with one another - Castle hates the way he feels this morning. Because how he feels is bitter, old and tired, when in truth, he should be rejoicing at how far they've all come to form the close-knit little family they now are.

"We closed down your massage parlor before the Health Department got wind of it," jokes Alexis, beaming at him over her cup of tea at her own clever remark.

Castle smiles wanly, and nods his head to acknowledge that he heard her.

Kate is sitting with her feet up on a stool, her knees bent, while she cradles a mug of coffee to her chest. Half-eaten bowls of berries and two used eggcups, their headless shells as scooped out and empty as Castle feels, sit on the counter in front of them.

"We went ahead and made breakfast," says Kate, a little tentatively, unfolding her long body to slide down off the stool. "Thought you could use the rest," she adds, her expression one of tenderness mixed with knowing contrition. "Let me make you something," she offers, placing her mug in the sink and coming over to greet her partner.

"Morning," she whispers intimately, stretching up on tiptoe to kiss him, fingers wrapping around his biceps, the other hand gripping the back of his wrinkled shirt.

But Castle turns his head away at the last moment, and so Kate is forced to kiss him on the cheek, instead, acutely aware that Alexis is probably watching them both.

"What can I get you?" she asks him, her voice betraying a forced-cheerfulness as she heads over to the refrigerator. "We had soft-boiled eggs, toast and some fruit," she tells him, opening the door to get the orange juice while he decides.

"Nothing. I'm not hungry. I think I'll just go take a shower," he says flatly, giving her a tight smile when he sees the look of concern on her face.

"Are you sure because…"

"I can make myself something later," he tells her, shutting the conversation down abruptly.

Alexis observes them closely, head moving back-and-forth between each adult as you would for a tennis match.

"Dad, have you seen this story in the paper about the guy with the rocket-fuelled jetpack?" his daughter asks, trying to defuse the tension for Kate's sake by distracting him with trivia.

"Excuse me. I think I left something in the bathroom," says Kate quietly, needing an excuse to leave the room, while Castle stoops over the newspaper Alexis has spread out on the counter.

He glances up to watch Kate leave, and then focuses back on his daughter.

* * *

"Dad, she's sorry. Give her a break," Alexis hisses at her dad, the second Kate disappears.

"Pumpkin, there are times, you'll come to realize as you get older, when sorry just isn't enough," replies Castle, dully, smoothing his hand down over the back of Alexis' head.

"_Daaad!_" exclaims Alexis. "This is _Kate_ you're talking about, not _mom_ or some…_floosy!_"

"I know that, honey. But what I said still stands."

"But she feels really bad, dad. And she came back. Last night, she came back. That has to count for something," argues Alexis.

"Alexis, I know you mean well, but you don't know what you're talking about," says her father, trying to keep his temper.

"I know you're being a jerk about this. And I doubt this is all Kate's fault either."

"Alexis, that's enough!" says Castle sternly, just as Martha descends the stairs, frills of emerald green silk fluttering behind her.

"Oh, my, my. Someone got out of bed on the wrong side this morning," declares Martha, sweeping in to give her granddaughter a kiss on the cheek, while throwing her son a dirty glare.

"Don't start, mother," grouches Castle, whipping noisily through the pages of the newspaper, far too fast to actually be reading anything.

"Where's Kate? I thought I heard her come home last night."

"She did. After one. And that's what I was trying to tell dad – how great that is. But he refuses to listen," complains Alexis, lips pursed disapprovingly as she looks at her father.

"You two had an argument and the girl came back," nods Martha, raising her shoulders, her palms up in a sign of openness. "Progress, surely?" she points out. "Given your dismal track record."

"Yes, thank you for the history lesson, mother. But we won't be needing it," replies Castle curtly, slamming the newspaper closed.

"Oh, good. So you've apologized I take it?" asks Martha.

"_Ap_—whatever for?" splutters Castle, indignantly.

"For being an idiot, Richard," says Martha fiercely. "Did you listen to anything I said last night? Do not mess this up. I am warning you."

"Yeah, dad. You need to apologize," chimes in Alexis.

"Look. I love you both," replies Castle, trying his damndest to remain civil. "But right now…you don't know what you're talking about," he adds, simmering with anger. "I'm going for a shower," he declares, striding off towards the bedroom.

* * *

"_Wow!_ What was that about?" asks Alexis, once he's gone. "Kate looked really upset when she came home last night and now he's in a foul mood. I thought they'd have kissed and made up by now."

"How was Kate?" asks Martha, with concern, jerking her head towards the bedroom.

"She was quiet this morning when we cleared up that tragic scene from American Beauty dad had set up in the bedroom. Rose petals? What was he _thinking_?" asks Alexis, wrinkling her nose.

"Well, I never had him down as a Mena Suvari fan, darling, so I think he was trying to do something nice for Beckett. A romantic gesture to show her that he appreciates her. This incident with Vaughn has really got him rattled, you know. I'd go easy on him for a while."

"But they will figure it out, grams?" asks Alexis, looking worried.

"Oh, I'm sure they'll fight their way through somehow, darling. And if not, we can always bang they're heads together, mmm?" suggests Martha, giving her granddaughter a hug. "What do you say?"

* * *

"Picked a team then?" observes Castle, leaning against the doorjamb, watching Kate unpack cosmetics from her bag into the various drawers and shelves in the bathroom that are now considered hers.

"Excuse me?" asks Kate, turning around to stare at him, a bright blue sweater clutched in one hand.

"Last night. I take it Vaughn didn't call, or you wouldn't be here."

"Why would you think Vaughn would call?" she asks, shaking her head at his out of left field remark.

"Oh, I don't know. He just didn't seem like the kind of guy to give up easily once he'd set his heart on something."

"His _heart?_ Are you _listening_ to yourself? Do you know how self-pitying you sound right now?

"Self-pity not doing it for you?" he asks, sarcastically. "What about anger, hurt, betrayal? Those have any appeal?"

"Castle, grow up," replies Kate, putting the last of her cosmetics away, and then turning to face him. "I came home so we could talk things over. Put this behind us and move forward."

"No news from the billionaire, so decided I was the safer bet, huh?"

Kate stares at Castle, opened-mouthed, and then she snaps.

"_Go to hell!_" she yells, storming past him into the bedroom, throwing her sweater onto the bed.

She gets as far as the door and stops, abruptly wheeling around to face him.

"Actually, you know what? _No!_ No, I'm not going anywhere. You might be happy behaving like an ass. But we've put too much into this relationship to watch it go up in flames over some petty jealousy."

"_Petty jealousy?_" bellows Castle, crossing his arms defensively.

"Yes. And I am _done_ running, Castle. We need to talk this through like adults. I get that you are hurt and disappointed in me right now. I'm pretty disappointed in myself. But I'm _not_ walking out on this, on what we have, just because you're mad at me. I'm not. So, go get in the shower, take as long as you need. But I will be out there with your mother and your daughter, waiting for you, until you're ready to sit down and talk to me," declares Kate, standing her ground.

Castle glares back at her, his hands now balled into fists by his sides, his breathing slightly labored. Finally, when Kate refuses to back down or break his gaze, he retreats silently into the bathroom and closes the door.

Kate lets out a strangled sigh of relief and sinks down onto the bed, dropping her head into her hands, fighting back the tears that suddenly clog her throat.

* * *

"Everything okay?" asks Martha sympathetically, when Kate comes out into the living room to wait for Castle to finish showering and getting ready.

"Honestly?" asks Kate, sounding dazed and exhausted. "I'm not sure, right now, Martha."

"Coffee?" asks Alexis, offering Kate a fresh cup.

"Thanks, Alexis. That would be great," she replies, gratefully accepting the kindness and hospitality the women in her partner's family are offering her; not taking sides, just their way of showing their support.

All three have grown much closer since she started staying over at the loft almost every night, and planning Castle's surprise birthday party together helped them to bond and showed Martha and Alexis just how much Kate was willing to do for the man she loves.

"His pride is wounded, darling," soothes Martha, passing Kate the creamer and then patting her hand. "You know what men are like," she adds, dismissively. "He'll get over it."

"I hope so. I've never seen him so angry and upset before."

"Oh, Kate, darling, Richard loves you," coos Martha, her smile full of reassurance. "But he's never been very good at long-term relationships. In fact, I'd go so far as to say he's made a pigs ear out of most of…"

"Well, thank you, mother, for that fine vote of confidence," declares Castle, suddenly appearing out of nowhere, giving his mother a slow handclap round of applause while he walks towards them. He's wearing dark jeans and a black, vee-neck t-shirt, and his hair is still damp. "Good to know I can count on my own family to undermine me behind my back."

"_Dad_…" begins Alexis, about to jump to her grandmother's defense.

But Castle cuts her off.

"_Don't!_" he says, holding up a hand to stop her saying anything further.

"Castle, you mother was just trying to help," says Kate quietly, putting down her coffee cup and standing.

"Yeah, well, help like that I can do without," he replies, bitterly.

"Why don't we leave you two alone to talk," suggest Martha, with forced brightness, gathering up Alexis and heading for the stairs. "We'll be right upstairs if you need anything," she adds, giving Kate a wink and an encouraging nod.

"I think you've done quite enough for one day," says Castle, witheringly, refusing to watch his mother and daughter leave.

"She didn't deserve that," Kate tells him, biting her lip, standing up for Martha but desperate not to turn this into another argument.

"She's hardly a poster child for couples therapy," he snorts. "In fact, she's had longer relationships with a pair of gloves than she's had with any man."

"Castle, your mother means well. Give her a break. Does this mean you're ready to talk?" she asks, giving him the once over now that he's showered and dressed.

"Not here," he says, shaking his head.

"Okay. Then where?" asks Kate, leaving the choice of venue entirely up to him if it'll just get him to calm down and talk this out.

"I need some fresh air. Why don't we walk for a bit? Clear our heads."

"I think that sounds like a great idea," says Kate, grasping onto his willingness to at least spend time with her. "Just let me grab my phone."

* * *

_A/N: Dun, dun, dunnnnnn! You might say this was OOC on Castle's part, but we know he can be petulant, childish, stubborn and passionate when pushed to his limit, and cheating or a suggestion of cheating is this guy's limit; a real sore spot. Hang in there. Next bit should be interesting. Liv_


	5. Chapter 5 - Detour Ahead

_A/N: Slightly later update today, but real life has a way of intervening. Enjoy…_

* * *

_**Chapter 5 – Detour Ahead**_

The ride down in the elevator takes place in strained silence. Kate faces the doors, her phone clutched tightly in her hand, while Castle lounges against the wall in the furthest back corner; surly, silent, his eyes trained on the floor. When she does risk a glance at him it's brief, and she is shocked at how set his features are, how tightly drawn his mouth.

Kate makes an effort to be pleasant to Eduardo, the doorman, as they pass through the lobby, making lighthearted small talk about the weather and his grandkids, while all Castle manages is a wave of his hand and a curt nod.

When they exit the building on the corner, the sun is shining, the air surprisingly warm. The streets are getting pretty busy already, beginning to fill up with neighborhood hipsters, young families and the tourists that flood into this part of SoHo on the weekend.

Kate doesn't know what to do next, so she decides to take her cue from her partner since this walk was his idea.

"Which way?" she asks, looking up at him for guidance, shielding her eyes from the sun.

"I…" he shakes his head, shrugging as he looks right along Crosby Street and then North-West on Broome. "Whatever. I don't care. Let's just walk," he says, quickly cutting across the street in the direction of Spring.

Kate follows him, concerned to see how uncommunicative he's being and how low his mood obviously is. The sidewalks are getting crowded in places the closer they get to the upscale boutiques and designer stores that are a feature of this part of SoHo. It's after 11am on a sunny Saturday, so the world and his wife are appearing out of the woodwork to clog streets that would normally be quieter if this were a weekday morning.

They reach the junction of Crosby and Spring before either of them speaks again. Kate feels as if she's in some kind of strange, silent dream, or floating in a tank deep underwater. Because they never do this now – walk without talking. There's always a constant stream of chatter coming from Castle or her bating and teasing him over something ridiculous he just said, and she misses that special connection they have with a sudden, terrible ache. They're outside on a rare sunny day off and barely on speaking terms; wasting more precious time. Always wasting time.

This isn't what she wanted the outcome to be when she asked him where they were going. But then she's sure her kissing Vaughn wasn't what Castle expected when she told him she needed to protect the guy alone, without his help. The silence is working though, making her distinctly uneasy and giving her ample time to question why she responded to that guy's overtures the way she did and realize just how deeply she has hurt her partner.

She had to find a way to make this right.

* * *

"Watch! Cyclist," yells Castle, grabbing Kate's arm when she mindlessly steps off the curb, hauling her back just in time so that she bumps into his chest and he has to steady her with both hands.

"Sorry. My mind was elsewhere," she tells him, as he unwraps his fingers from her arm, his other hand having landed on her hip, and reluctantly lets her go, his eyes filled with a reluctant kind of longing and as sad as she's ever seen them.

She hates this.

Now that Gates knows about them being a couple, they have taken to risking hand-holding in public, and so today's walk feels extra strained and unnatural, since they do no more than bump arms and shoulders accidentally when thrown together by circumstance, just as they used to for so many years before they got together.

"Which way now?" asks Kate, looking up and down Spring Street for inspiration.

"Eh, left?" suggests Castle, crossing on green this time and falling in step with her, instead of racing ahead.

"You know, we are gonna have to talk about this sometime," Kate eventually suggests, as they swerve past a young couple with their arms wrapped around one another, hips welded together while they walk at that slow, almost drunken pace that leads them to weave and stagger, their happy laughter taunting Kate.

She wants that to be them, but Castle's showing no sign of thawing towards her, so she decides to attempt to nudge things along.

"Let's just…can we walk a bit more first?" asks Castle, his face so deadly serious it reminds her of the night a year ago when she first came to his door to ask for forgiveness and to fight for him.

She's going to have to fight again if today goes anything like she imagines it will.

"We can do both, you know," she tells him lightly, touching his elbow and watching for his reaction.

"I know. I just need a minute," he nods, ushering her ahead of him with a hand to the small of her back, still solicitous, gentlemanly Castle, when the sidewalk gets overcrowded and they have to resort to walking in single file.

* * *

They wait at the crosswalk on the corner of Mercer. Kate bites her lip and looks at her feet, the charged atmosphere killing her, trying to find the courage from somewhere to take charge here, to overcome the feeling she has that she's lost her entitlement to lead anything or ask for anything when it comes to them. She thinks about the advice Lanie gave her the night before - that she has to take responsibility for where they go and not leave all the directing up to Castle – and that thought helps her to find her voice.

"You know, I never would have cheated on you," she says, glancing up at the handsome man by her side to see if he's paying attention.

Castle stares down at her, obviously startled by her statement, and then he looks straight ahead again, his jaw set in a way that says he's tempted just to tune her out.

"Well, I guess we'll never know," he replies grimly, stepping out into the roadway when the last car passes, without waiting for the lights to turn green.

"What does _that_ mean?" asks Kate, raising her voice above the sound of the city and hurrying to catch up with him, Castle's strides becoming long and angry again.

"It means what it sounds like. You had a moment, and okay, the moment passed. But if a sniper hadn't tried to take that guy out…" he shrugs. "Who knows where we'd be now."

"Castle, you surely can't believe that?" asks Kate, catching his arm and spinning him round until he's facing her, forcing other pedestrians to flow around them.

They are surrounded by other human beings, and yet somehow Kate has never felt so alone.

"Until a few days ago, I'd have agreed with you, Kate. One hundred percent," he says sadly, lifting his arm out of her grasp. "Until a few days ago," he repeats quietly, his voice catching, dry, brittle and choked. Unable to say anymore at this point, he turns back around and walks away, leaving her shaking her head, confounded.

* * *

The weekend traders are out in force, their trestle tables set up all along the sidewalks of SoHo, lining the curbs and slowing the progress of the crowd who stop to browse and stare, as they hawk their jewelry and trinkets, their movie scripts, secondhand vinyl records and t-shirts to the passing tourists.

"Castle, why are we doing this?" asks Kate, snagging the back of his t-shirt to slow him down and get his attention again.

"Wh—_why_ are we?" laughs Castle, in disbelief, stepping back against a wall and then into a doorway to get space to talk to her.

"Why are we fighting?"

"You tell me," says Castle, before turning away and then striding over Green Street, en route to Wooster.

"I think because you're scared," offers Kate, calling it right when Castle slams to a halt, narrowly missing the teenage girl behind him, who has to swerve around him with a cuss and a tut and a flip of her hair.

"Scared?" asks Castle, suspiciously, turning to face Kate. "Scared of what, exactly?"

"Of me," admits Kate quietly, moving on past him without waiting for his reaction.

* * *

She's standing on the corner of West Broadway, watching the traffic fly by, her eyes narrowed in concentration as she tries to filter Castle out, to filter out the fear _she_ feels at finally being on the cusp of confronting this - the jumbled up mess of all the issues they've hidden from and ignored over the years, even since they've been sleeping together.

"Why would I be scared of you?" asks Castle, brushing against her when she raises her arm to hit the crossing button with the flat of her palm, the brief glance of his accidental touch raising goose-bumps all over her skin and sending sparks firing down her spine.

"Just something Lanie said last night. Made a lot of sense," explains Kate, experiencing a full body shiver, despite the warm spring day.

"You spoke to Lanie?" asks Castle, clearly surprised.

"Yeah, that's where I went when I left the loft. Why, where did you think I went?"

"Your apartment, I guess. So, Lanie knows? Kate, that mean Espo and Ryan…" he sighs, running a hand through his hair. "Just for once, it would be nice not to live out our lives in public."

"Oh, like you didn't talk to Martha after I left last night. Because she seemed pretty clued in this morning, as did Alexis."

He looks set to argue with her again, but then he sighs, giving in with a shrug.

"Touché."

* * *

The 'beep-bop' noise sounds when she slaps the silver button for a second time, and then the lights change, giving her the freedom to try to outrun him again, needing just a moment of her own to gather herself; a moment of uninterrupted, fast-paced sidewalk pounding to get her heart rate up and her head clear.

He catches up with her by the far side of West Broadway, and he's in perfect sync with her steps by the time they near Thomson.

He takes hold of her arm outside the white frontage of Mezzogiorno, an Italian they've been to with the guys before, stopping her from going any further.

Kate lets him pull her to a standstill. She knows it's time, there's no way of avoiding this now. They need to get it all out there, clear the air and make themselves heard. More than that, they need to make themselves _understood_ for a change.

"So, where do you want to do this?" she asks, looking around.

She remembers, with a start, that Castle hasn't had any breakfast this morning, he's hung over, and hasn't even had a hit of caffeine to perk him up.

"We should get you something to eat," she interjects, when he opens his mouth to make a proposal. "Cup of coffee, at least."

Castle is clearly surprised by her suggestion; by the care implied in her thinking. But he nods, realizing for himself, she thinks, that he does need something.

He pats his jeans pockets and then looks crestfallen.

"Damn. I came out without my wallet," he confesses, rubbing the back of his neck.

Kate is already crouching down, fishing a twenty out of her sock.

"Here. Take this," she says, looking around for somewhere to get coffee.

"You keep a twenty dollar bill in your sock?" he asks, amused for what seems like the first time in two days, his eyes crinkling with the brief lift of a smile that she wants to reach up and touch, to kiss, to hold on to, to make everything better.

"Castle, I strap a gun to my ankle. Why would having money in my sock be so strange?" she point out, laying a hand on his arm for balance as she pulls the hem of her yoga pants back down.

He reaches out to steady her, and they physically connect for the first time that day in a gentle way; locking eyes, holding hands, hearts suddenly racing, until an old woman with two miniature Schnauzers, both pooches trotting along the sidewalk on extending dog leads, forces them to let go of one another and part, in order to make space for all three to pass by.

"Yeah," says Kate, awkwardly, backing away from him a step or two and looking at the ground, before glancing up at her partner to check his reaction.

"Mmm-hmm," agrees Castle, his gaze burning a hole in the top of her head. "I'll just…" he adds, thickly, jerking his head towards a tiny Italian coffee shop across the street, clearly as affected by the moment as Kate is.

"That'd be great," she nods, giving him a slight smile. "I'll wait over there," she tells him, pointing to the playground on Thomson Street.

Once Castle is out of earshot she mutters, "_Dammit_," to herself and slaps her own thigh in frustration at yet another interrupted, lost moment of connection, before crossing the road to find them somewhere to sit and talk.

* * *

She eschews the stone tables and benches, with their black and white checkerboard surfaces meant for playing chess, since the metaphor implied by these seems a little overblown, a little obvious, even for Castle's rampant, symbolic imagination, choosing, instead, to enter the playground beyond.

The playground has basketball courts, a wading pool and all sorts of play equipment, including a jungle gym and sandpit. But it's the swings that catch Kate's eye. Despite being a lovely spring Saturday, the playground is quiet, most kids in this little area of SoHo at soccer practice, ballet class, French lessons or on playdates with friends.

The swings are empty, and there's just one little boy and his mother playing on a teeter-totter in the far corner near the fence. So she sits down on one of the black plastic seats and pushes off, raising her knees so that her legs swing slightly above the ground, gently clearing the asphalt with her feet.

The sensation is freeing and the motion soothes her, and for a few brief moments she forgets that they are here to debate their future – if they have one – to repair the damage she has done to them, and figure out a new way to communicate with one another that doesn't involve subtext or long silences followed by the inevitable stormy blowout.

Kate has worked up to a smooth back and forth by the time Castle arrives with their coffee and a bag of pastries. He stands nearby, watching her soar up into the air, her fingers clutched around the chains on the swing, her legs held out straight in front of her, ponytail flying, working herself higher and higher until she sees him.

"Sorry," she calls down, blushing when she catches him staring, wondering if he thinks her frivolous, that may she's not taking this seriously enough.

"No. Don't stop on my account," he argues, coming in closer anyway, balancing the little cardboard tray of goodies with one hand.

Kate lets her sneakers scrape along the ground to slow herself to a stop, and by the time she does, Castle is standing next to her, faintly smiling.

"Swings, huh?" he sighs, running a hand through his hair. "Takes me back."

"Your book signing," she says, nodding, accepting the takeout coffee cup he offers her.

"Mmm," he agrees, thoughtfully, sitting down on the swing beside her. "Not a great memory, if I'm honest," he admits.

"Yeah. For me either."

"Really? Why not?" he asks, genuinely interested, since this is another moment in their past that they've never taken the time to talk about.

"Regrets. I wish I'd been braver that day," confesses Kate.

"Braver?"

"Told you how I really felt. Explained that I was asking you to wait…for me and why. Admitted that I heard you. Lots of regrets," she shrugs, taking a sip of scalding hot coffee. "That's why we have to do this properly now, Castle. So there can be no misunderstandings. No regrets. Agreed?" she asks, turning her head to look at him.

The sun is reaching its highest point, almost no shadow cast on his face when she looks at him, and his eyes soften and for a second she sees the Castle of old – trusting Castle, adoring Castle, patient Castle - the man who was always willing to forgive her no matter what; no matter how hard she made it for him, no matter how long she kept him at arms length. And then the softness is gone, shuttered, replaced by a steeliness that she doesn't even recognize; a steeliness she knows _she_ put there. He might have changed her, as Lanie said, but his changes are ones worth taking credit for. Some of the changes she sees occurring in Richard Castle the last couple of days are not changes she can be proud to own. She needs to fix this fast.

"Agreed?" she repeats, nudging his swing gently with her own, so that they sway side-to-side for a second.

"Agreed," he nods grimly, taking a sip of his own coffee, and looking off into the distance.

* * *

_A/N: So we'll get down to brass tacks next. I didn't want to rush their talk and I have family commitments today. But I didn't want to leave you hanging without an update either, so forgive me if this one was shorter than normal. Have a great weekend. Liv_


	6. Chapter 6 - Navigation

_A/N: Delayed posting this since FF alerts were broken. This chapter is written from Kate's point of view._

* * *

_**Chapter 6 – Navigation**_

"I'm sorry," says Kate, out of the blue, looking at her partner with contrition in her eyes and some other sentiment that seems to beg something of him in return.

Castle hands her a pain au chocolat and a couple of paper napkins, which she accepts with a tense smile, busying himself with the coffee tray, seeming not to pay much attention to her apology.

She holds up the pastry and says, "Thanks, for this, by the way," before biting into it.

"Hey, breakfast is on you," he reminds her. "But…you're welcome," he adds, trying not to sound like an ungrateful jerk.

They eat and drink quietly for a minute before Kate speaks again.

"Castle, I said I'm sorry before because I am. I _truly_ am. I can see how much this whole Vaughn thing has hurt you, and…" she pauses, searching for the right words, "…I've been trying to figure out for myself why I let that guy get inside my head. Why I ended up behaving in a way that was…"

"Out of character?" suggests Castle, tearing at his own pastry.

"I was going to say completely unacceptable. But out of character is…generous of you," she concedes.

"Come to any conclusions?" he asks, taking a sip of coffee and then hazarding a quick glance her way.

"None that make my behavior look any better," she sighs, shaking her head.

"Right," he nods, tersely, clearly thinking she's done, unwilling to explore or address the issue any further.

But then Kate begins to speak again and he soon finds himself enraptured by her words and this rare flash of openness.

* * *

"When we got together, it was on the back of four years of denial. Four years spent trying to ignore how I felt about you, about how you'd affected my thinking and my life. I still can't explain why I held myself back from us for so long. I was…_damaged_ by my mother's murder, yes, afraid to feel or let anyone get too close to me, and I told myself that was okay, because I used that anger and hurt to help other people by channeling my energy into my job. I know that you know all of this already, Castle. You were there. But from the second I let myself love you, it was as if my life just opened up, from this dark, narrow corridor into this amazing, colorful, panoramic vista."

"A panoramic vista," repeats Castle, surprised by Kate's poetic turn of phrase.

"Sounds crazy, I know," she says, a little embarrassed. "But that's exactly what it felt like," she explains, dreamily, looking over at a couple of toddlers playing together, their diaper-padded butts bobbing in the air, chubby little hands patting gingerly at the damp sand, exploring the world anew, tiny fingers splayed wide like starfish.

"Sounds nice," admits Castle, following her gaze.

"It was," says Kate, ruefully, tearing her eyes away from the kids to concentrate fully on him.

"Was?" asks Castle, whipping his head round to look at her face.

"_Was_. _Is_," she shrugs. "Point is: I want _more_, Castle. _You_ made me want _more_."

"You say that like it's a bad thing."

"It's only a bad thing if…if we both don't want more. Castle, I have no idea where we're headed. Because we never talk about the future. All I know is that I want more for my life."

"_Your life_?" he chokes, staring at her, open-mouthed. "_Yours?_ What about _our_ life, Kate? Or, what? You meet this Svengali, Vaughn, and suddenly I don't fit in the picture anymore? Or, sorry, the '_panoramic vista'_," he spits, sarcastically. "Is that what you're saying?"

"Why are you so fixated on this guy? I _made_ a _mistake_. I owned up. I apologized. What more do you want from me?"

"See, that you don't even understand this, is what worries me," he grits out, his voice full of frustration. "How can we have any kind of a future together if I can't trust you?"

"Can't _trust me?_" she splutters, enraged.

"You let the guy kiss you, Kate. In my world, that's kind of a deal breaker."

"I pushed him away."

"That you let him get close enough in the first place is the point. Do you remember when I followed you to LA?"

"Pfff, how could I forget?" she scoffs, glancing at him, curious to see where he's going with this line of argument.

"And do you remember that night in the hotel suite? It was late and we were talking and I told you how amazing I thought you were."

"You said I was hot, I remember that," admits Kate, smiling fondly at the memory.

"Yeah, well, I thought there was something between us even then. And I so wanted to kiss you that night. But I _didn't_. Because I knew that you were with Josh. And I thought that the second I tried anything it would have been all over for us, before it even started. Because I believed you weren't the kind of person to cheat."

"I _wasn't_. I'm _not_," she protests, an image of her own near-miss that night coming back to taunt her.

"So what's changed, Kate? You told me that right before Eric Vaughn kissed you, you were talking about me. Explain to me how that works."

"He asked if we were together. I told him yes, and then he asked if it was serious… Look, Castle, you're missing the point here. This isn't about Vaughn. It's about you and me."

"No, Kate. _You're_ missing the point. It's about _trust!_" he bellows, letting out a long, shuddering, anger-filled breath.

"Why is this one incident such a big deal for you?" she argues back.

"_Why?_" he asks, mystified that she can't see it for herself.

"Yes. What am I missing? I'm missing something, aren't I?"

"It doesn't matter," says Castle, sullenly, closing down.

He toes the ground beneath him, head bowed, his swing seat gently shifting back and forth until he plants his feet on the ground to stop the movement.

"Don't do this," implores Kate. "Please, Castle. Don't do this."

"Do _what?_" he snaps.

"Shut me out. We have to stop doing that. I know this is rich coming from me. But, honestly, Castle, if we can't talk about this stuff, we don't stand a chance."

* * *

Castle finishes his coffee in silence, and Kate wonders if maybe this is it. He doesn't want to make any more of an effort, they're drowning in miscommunication, and he's done. But then he surprises her when he begins to speak again.

"One day, when Alexis was at pre-school, I came home early from a meeting to find Meredith, my wife and the mother of my child, in bed with another man," he confesses, flatly, his voice controlled and emotionless.

Kate stares at him, her mouth slightly ajar, speechless.

"It wasn't some grand love affair. It was just tawdry, meaningless sex. He was the director of a low-budget, indie movie I'd pulled some strings to get her a part in. But it was the end of my marriage. The end of Alexis having two, loving, committed parents to raise her. That one incident turned me into a single father and it damaged my trust in women for years. Until I met you. Cheating is my non-negotiable, Kate."

"I had no idea," she replies, reaching out to touch his hand where it lies in his lap. But she withdraws again when he makes no move to accept her gesture. "You never said anything."

"I thought we were special. I hoped I didn't have to," he tells her, with a sadness that stings.

* * *

They lapse into silence again as Kate tries to digest what Castle has just told her; this revelation making sense of so many things she never understood before and raising many new questions in its wake.

"You know, right before she left for Paris, Meredith…she told me that…that you were a closed book. That by the end of your marriage you knew everything about her and she didn't know enough about you to write a pamphlet," she tells her partner.

"You asked Meredith about me?" asks Castle, surprised.

"No. I asked her why things didn't work out between you two."

"So, you trusted her enough to ask her opinion on this stuff and you didn't think to ask me. Why, Kate?" he asks, sounding cold and hurt.

"It seemed too soon. I don't know. I didn't want you to think I was comparing the two situations."

"When in fact you were," he points out.

"Alright. So maybe I should have talked to you first."

"Seems to me you've been doing an awful lot of talking to other people, when you should have been talking me."

"Not back to Vaughn again. Please. Will you give it a rest?"

"No, Kate. I won't. And do you know why? Because I still don't get it. I was there for you, for _four years_, right by your side. I knew as much as I could squeeze out of you, though God knows that was like getting blood out of a stone at times. Point is: I tried my hardest to get to know you, to understand what made you tick, to be what I hoped you needed, to prove myself to you. And still I was never good enough for Kate Beckett. No matter what I did. So, what I don't understand now, is _why this guy_? _Huh?_ Why fall for his charm after five minutes in his company?"

Kate curls in on herself, putting her head in her hands, feeling desperate and pushed and scared and ugly. She knows that they've reached a crossroads, and if she can't explain this properly to him, there may well be no way back for them.

* * *

"You know what, I've had enough," says Castle, abruptly, when she fails to answer right away, and then she hears the unpleasant scrape of metal on metal, the squeak of unoiled hinges and the rattle of chains, when he gets up off the swingset.

"_Because he was saying the things I wanted you hear from_ _you! Okay?_" she yells after him, rubbing the back of her neck, embarrassed by her outburst when the mother of the two little boys stares over at her in alarm. "I fell for his charms because he was saying all the things I wanted to hear from you," she repeats more quietly, staring at his back, wiped out by her confession. "You've become passive, Rick, and we're coasting and neither of us is getting any younger. I don't know what you want from me, from this."

He turns around to stare at her, stopped dead in his tracks by this revelation. Suddenly, he sees the engagement ring he impulsively bought for her, no plan how he was going to propose, sitting in the top drawer of his nightstand, its brilliance and beauty hidden away in velvet-clad darkness for now; a beating heart with patience as old as the earth itself.

"I wanted _you_," he tells her, earnestly, coming back to sit on the swing again, cattycorner to the direction she's facing this time, so they can more easily look at one another.

"_Wanted?_ But you don't anymore," she states, flatly.

"No, that's not…" he shakes his head, sighing in frustration that she still fails to see how much she means to him. "You _astound me_, Kate, almost everyday. If it's not your beauty…"

"Rick, please don't," she interrupts, embarrassed by his words, feeling he's demeaning himself by sharing his praise and admiration for her when she knows she doesn't deserve it.

But this is who he is, who he's always been – the big-hearted, generous, forgiving man, the trier, the patient one; her rock.

"Just…please listen," he asks, gently.

"Fine," she shrugs, smoothing her hands down over her thighs, swaying slightly as she does so.

"I don't know when I went from annoying you to wanting to be with you every single day, from liking and admiring you to loving and desiring you. But whenever that day was, my life changed too. You became my mission, my obsession even. But you were right, earlier, when you said that you scare me, Kate. The thought of losing you terrifies me. And so I guess I became so conditioned to taking things at your pace, letting you lead, not pushing, believe it or not, that I stopped thinking about the future. I was just happy to get one more day with you, to have you spend one more night in my bed, in my arms, and the thought that I broke us because I didn't push _enough_, didn't _plan_ enough, didn't ask enough of you…" he shakes his head, looking down at the ground. "That can't be how this goes, how this ends for us. Not after everything we went through to find one another."

"I don't want it to be," she reassures him, without thinking twice.

"Then what _do_ you want?" he implores.

"I want _you_. I just want you," she says simply, her words so familiar they sound like an echo stretching across time, as she reaches out to take his hand.

This time he lets her, opening his palm and then curling his own fingers around hers, looking down at the picture it makes – her hand in his; small, safe, contained…and _ringless._

He hears his mother, God help him. _'There isn't a ring on her finger. Technically she's not really committed at all.'_

"But what does that mean?" he asks, squeezing her hand and then letting go.

Kate looks crestfallen, disappointed, and then nervous and flummoxed.

* * *

"I've been blaming you for not telling me where we're going. I know you don't like that I talked to Lanie about any of this, but she said some things that made a lot of sense. She's not on my side here, Castle. She's on _our_ side."

"Okay. So, then, hit me with it. What were the good Doctor Parish's words of wisdom? That you should cuff me to a chair and torture it out of me?" he asks, surprising her with his levity.

"Not exactly. She said that I needed to take some responsibility for where we go next, not leave it all up to you. She said that I needed to show you that I've changed, that I want more out of life, all thanks to you. She also pointed out that no one knows me as well as you do, Castle. And she was right."

"I knew it!" he exclaims, slapping his thigh with what she could only describe as glee. "She likes me. I wore her down, just like I'm gonna wear down Captain Gates," he adds, already plotting.

Kate laughs, can't help herself; seeing him returning to something close to his silly self.

"Gates might take a little longer to thaw. Meanwhile, you and I aren't getting any younger," she points out, her eyes flicking back across the playground to watch the adorable, grubby little toddlers wobble their way around the sandpit.

The father of the little boys arrives, and the babies squeal with excitement, displaying toothy grins, their hands flapping, grasping to be held, bottoms bouncing impatiently in the sand. Kate watches wistfully as the mom gets up off the bench to greet her husband, stretching up on tiptoe to kiss him, before they both turn to watch their progeny playing in the dirt.

"Is there something you want to tell me, Kate?" asks Castle, gently, following her gaze.

"Something?" she frowns, faking cluelessness, while trying not to blush. "No," she adds, lightly, shaking her head.

"Because that's the second time I've caught you staring at those little kids over there. Is this part of the discussion we should be having?" he asks, playfully nudging her knee with his own, and then lifting his feet off the ground so that he swings past her slightly.

She watches him glide back and forth for a second, without answering, and then he puts his feet back down, slowing to a stop beside her.

"Because it's okay if it is. New rules," he promises. "You can ask me anything."

"Yes, but can I? How much don't I know about you, Rick?" she asks, sounding distressed. "You spent four years studying me. You're good at this stuff - at burrowing into my life, into my head, asking the right questions and drawing me out. But I'm not. I respect your privacy too much. I…I've been so self-involved I didn't even known the right questions to ask, clearly, if I had no idea that your first marriage ended because your ex-wife cheated on you. What about Gina? Did she cheat too? Or was that just a mistake? And if so, what does that make me?"

* * *

Castle sighs, and taking hold of the chain that supports Kate's swing, he draws her nearer.

"That makes you _you_, Kate," he soothes, bringing tears to her eyes with the soft look on his face and the tenderness in his voice, since she knows that this is way more than she deserves. "I meant it when I said I thought we were special. I've never felt about anyone the way I feel about you. And that's the God's honest truth."

"Me too," she replies, the words catching in her throat. "But how does that fix things? What if loving someone isn't enough?"

"It's a better start than a lot of couples have by this point in their lives. We've both made errors, we're agreed on that at least. But, if I'm not mistaken, neither of us wants this to be the end. Am I right?" he checks, watching her face intently.

"_No!_" she insists. "Of course not. Last night, I asked you where we were going because I want us to go _somewhere_, Castle. Not just drift along anymore, too scared to ask each other for more than an empty drawer or some closet space. I want us to have a plan, make some kind of…" she shrugs, brushing a few flakes of pastry off her pants.

"_Commitment?_" he offers, smiling fondly when she blushes.

"Yeah, something like that," she acknowledges, bashfully.

"So, how do you want to go about that? Because I'm not averse to a little Rochambeau?" he jokes, pleased to see her smile instantly, her golden-mossy eyes rising to meet his, her cheeks flushing pink with pleasure, the ponytail giving her the look of a girl instead of a woman.

"But you're hopeless at Rochambeau," she laughs, eyes sparkling.

Castle shrugs nonchalantly.

"Then I guess it's Katherine Beckett for the win."

* * *

_A/N: This was a difficult chapter to write. If I had a therapist, I'd be lying on that couch right now with the blinds drawn. Would be keen to hear your thoughts if you have time. Liv_


	7. Chapter 7 - Are We There Yet?

_A/N: The story continues…_

* * *

_**Chapter 7 – Are We There Yet?**_

"So…shall we head back?" asks Castle, as soon as the smiles fade on his Rochambeau suggestion and a quiet, slightly awkward silence descends.

"You sure?" asks Kate, thinking that Martha and Alexis will be back at the loft waiting for them and the chance they've had to talk freely while out here, without prying eyes and ears, has been welcome.

"You want to stay longer?" asks Castle, a little surprised.

"No," Kate shakes her head. "No, it's just…well, we're not exactly there yet, are we?" she asks, deciding it's time to build on the job they've started.

"You want to talk some more?"

"I think we need to fix this, Castle. Figure out where we're going. We've made some progress, sure. But…last night, this morning," she shakes her head, "I don't want to go through that again. Fighting with you, your mother and Alexis getting dragged into the middle of everything… I hate seeing you unhappy, and I hate that I was the one who _made_ you unhappy."

"Then, don't. Let's just focus on each other. Work at communicating better. This thing with Vaughn was a wake-up call for both of us, Kate. I was taking you for granted. This guy caught your eye for the reasons you've already talked about. But…I don't know," says Castle quietly, shaking his head and rubbing two hands down over his face. "There's more to it than that."

"More?" frowns Kate.

"Yes. You were _attracted _to him, Kate. _Physically attracted_. That's hard to see past. Ego like mine?" he shrugs, laughing bitterly. "Come on. The guy was on my Last Supper List. You don't think I hadn't noticed how charismatic he is? Not to mention baggage free. No ex-wives, college age daughter, crazy mother living at home, acting like she owns the place, to worry about. He's the total package."

"But he's not you," states Kate simply, shaking her head.

* * *

Castle pauses for a moment, rubbing his jaw, but before he can summon an answer for her rebuttal, Kate is talking again.

"I don't know how to prove to you that I wouldn't have cheated on you. With Vaughn or anyone else. I was feeling neglected, and he showed me some attention, _yes_. But he doesn't _know_ me, Castle. He thought he was such a quick study, but you and I both know different. You've seen me at my very worst, how messed up I was over my mom's murder, the PTSD, how unhealthly obsessed I can get over a case that matters to me. I can be closed off, distant, selfish. This guy knows none of that. He thought I was someone I'm not. He saw me at my best because of you. Because of what you've done for me I can hide the parts of myself I don't like, become a better version of myself. But, Castle, more than any of that, I'm in love with _you_."

He listens to her patiently, pleased to see her opening up to him again, the honesty she's able to show after years of avoidance. And when she tells him she's in love with him, it pains him not to just give in right there. But he can't.

"Kate, you said it yourself. Sometimes loving someone isn't enough."

"Not just loving, Castle. _In love with_. There's a huge difference. This is the longest relationship I have ever been in, and if you had asked me four years ago for odds on us making it this far, I'd have laughed in your face and told you that was a fool's bet. Yet here we are, and we've had one hell of a year. We work together everyday, we spend almost every night together, our friends are our _colleagues_, we've been keeping our relationship a secret from my boss, we practically _live_ with your mother, Alexis hated me when we got together… How many other couples would have made it this far? Hmm? With all those competing pressures, the odds stacked against them?"

"But…" he shakes his head, still not convinced on the Vaughn front.

"I see you looking at other women, Rick," says Kate, trying a slightly different tack. "Don't think I don't. But that's okay. Because I trust you not to act on that attraction. And, maybe I crossed a line with Vaughn…"

"_Maybe?_" chokes Castle. "You still think you _maybe_ crossed a line with him?"

"Okay, so yeah, I did. I crossed a line. Are you happy now?"

"I don't want to force you to keep apologizing or make you feel like you're a bad person, Kate. I just want you to understand that what you did, in light of our relationship, was wrong. That's all."

"I'm not good with apologies, I'm stubborn. And I am even worse at admitting when I'm wrong. You know that."

"Do you even understand that what you did was wrong?" he asks again, concerned that she doesn't.

"I…yeah. Yes, I do. And in light of what you told me about Meredith…ten times worse," she adds, shaking her head. "But I can promise you, it won't happen again."

"How can you promise that, Kate? How can you know for sure?"

"Because I won't let myself get into that situation."

* * *

With Kate's words, which are meant to be reassuring, a chill runs down Castle's spine.

Of the species, if you were to choose, it is men who are more likely to cheat, by biology and reputation, tempted by and attracted to more than one woman; designed to sow their wild oats for the survival of the human race. Women are supposed to be the nurturers, faithful and monogamous by biology and nature. But Castle is in love with an Alpha female, and this is the first time it strikes him just how different a creature Kate Beckett really is. All the things he loves and admires about her, not to mention the things that make her stunningly attractive to him and every other male that crosses her path – her strength, both physical and mental, her courage, her intelligence, her dissecting ability to thinking coolly and rationally under extreme pressure, her ambition, her physicality, her prowess in a man's world, contrasted with her femininity, her sensuality and her beauty – these things, together with the demands of her job, force her to behave more like a man sometimes than he ever gave her credit for. She is an alpha female and he is a metrosexual, their life roles reflect that, and, yes, they balance each other out. But this isn't Gina he's dealing with, and it's a revelation that hits him square on for the very first time. Kate Beckett is different from any other woman he's ever been with, and if they're going to make a go of this, there are things he'll have to get used to dealing with, to let go of, or as a couple they just won't work.

"Fine. Fine. If you're sure," he says, making a decision on the spot that she is too important to him to let go over this one issue. "I guess I can live with that."

"You're sure?" asks Kate, biting her lip, eager to reach a detente and put this behind them.

"Yeah," he says quickly, standing. "Now, let's get out of here, before that guy over there tells me I'm too old to be on the swings," he adds, holding out his hand to help her up, jerking his head towards the father of the twin boys, who's been watching them closely since he arrived.

Kate takes his hand gratefully, relieved to get any kind of physical connection back, and then, just as Castle is about to let go, she grips on tighter, pulling him back towards her, drawing him into a embrace. It's awkward and clumsy. She can feel from the stiffness in his posture when she hugs him, how he holds himself slightly away from her, that there is still a lot of healing to be done, a lot of ground to be made up on her part; mostly where trust is concerned. But they've made a good start, instead of flying apart as they might have done in the past.

Kate holds on for as long as she can bear, but Castle endures the hug rather than embracing it, and she buries her face in his neck one last time, before letting him go with a quick, reaffirming squeeze.

When she pulls back, she quickly turns her head away, shielding her eyes and her tears from him with the pretense of avoiding the sun.

"So, which way home?" she asks, with false brightness, surreptitiously wiping her damp cheek on the cuff of her sweatshirt.

Castle is silent for a second and she turns back to check he's still with her.

"You comin', Castle?" she asks, shielding her eyes again when she looks up at him.

"Sure. Yeah," he nods, striding to catch up with her.

* * *

They head back along Thomson Street, where there are less commercial premises and more residential buildings, making the sidewalks quieter and easier to navigate. They walk as far as Broome Street in silence, keeping pace, just rubbing along side-by-side, both working through all the things they've discussed, the truths they've shared over the last couple of hours.

"We could have picked up something for dinner if I'd brought my wallet," grumbles Castle, digging his hands into his pockets, as if still hoping it will magically appear.

"Why don't we go out somewhere? My treat," suggests Kate, eager to move them past this heavy situation, giving them a chance to talk about their future somewhere more conducive to a positive outlook.

"The Dutch?" suggests Castle, perking up a little and watching for her reaction.

"We'll never get a reservation," replies Kate, though she'd love to go there, where it's busy and buzzing, full of happy people, and they can forget the last hellish few days and be themselves again.

"Watch me," challenges Castle, flashing her the first genuine smile she can remember seeing since they got up this morning.

* * *

Castle ushers Kate ahead of him when they chance crossing against the lights on West Broadway, since they hit the corner at a gap in the traffic. But other than that light, solicitous touch, they keep to themselves.

Kate is acutely aware of her partner, as she always is these days – his physical presence stirring a low level hum throughout her body, especially dressed as he is today in jeans and a simple black, vee neck t-shirt, his well-muscled arms on display, his ass well-hugged by the dark-wash pants.

She's lagging back, watching with quiet amusement as another woman checks him out, when Castle stops suddenly on the far sidewalk to look at his phone and she collides with his back. He half-turns to steady her, and is just letting go, their movements a jumble of awkward apologies and the kind of tentative, careful gestures they would have made over a year ago, when Kate hears her name being called.

"_Detective!_" cries a familiar voice. "Detective Beckett."

Out of the side door of Badichi Belts, a custom leather shop on the corner of Broome and West Broadway, comes Captain Victoria Gates, closely shadowed by a tall, handsome, black man.

Kate and Castle scramble to release one another, the idea of touching in front of Gates still very much a knee-jerk no-no. They step a little further away from one another as she approaches them, smiling from ear-to-ear.

"I thought that was you," grins Gates, giving Kate's yoga pants and faded sweatshirt a none-too-subtle once over. "And _Mr. Castle_," she sings, beaming at Castle in a way that makes him distinctly uneasy.

"Captain," replies Castle, tipping his head and bowing, as if doffing his cap to her.

Gates turns around, snagging the tall man behind her by the arm and drawing him into their little grouping.

"Ray, I'd like you to meet one of my best detectives, Kate Beckett. And this is her partner, the novelist, Richard Castle. The hero of the hour," she declares with some pride, surprising them both.

"Ah, the man who faced down a bomb for the love of his woman. You put the rest of us less-courageous males to shame with that one, I'm afraid. Vicky talked about that for days," he laughs warmly, giving his wife a fond smile.

Ray Gates shakes hands with both of them, slapping Castle heartily on the back, while they exchange pleasantries.

"So, what brings you to these parts?" asks Castle, ever the charming, sociable one.

"We were holster shopping and Ray decided he needed a new belt," explains Gates, drawing a half-laugh-half-cough from Castle when he realizes that this is actually what this couple do on the weekends.

"Holster shopping. How about that," says Castle, turning to give Kate a look, which she rewards with a sharp dig in the ribs.

"What about you two?" asks Gates, looking expectantly from the detective to the writer, a frighteningly cheery grin on her face.

"Just…out walking, sir," replies Kate, indulging in what is barely a lie.

"We only live a couple of blocks away," explains Castle, pointing along Broome Street, his hand landing on Kate's shoulder and then coasting down her back to settle on her waist once he's finished with this little guided tour of his neighborhood.

Instead of moving away from him, Kate, finds herself leaning in closer, and she shivers when his fingers tighten on her waist in response, his thumb brushing bare flesh where the loose shirt hangs away from her low rise pants.

"Nice part of town," throws in Ray Gates. "Easy commute to the precinct too."

"Eh, when Castle said '_we_', sir, what he actually meant was…" mumbles Kate, uncomfortably.

"Neutral ground, Detective," assures Gates, nodding knowingly and tapping the side of her nose in a display of confidence, reminding both of them of the conversation they had right after the bomb defusal.

"Right," replies Kate, wondering what the heck just happened, and how on earth they managed to put Gates under the impression that she and Castle are now living together.

"Well, we should get going," interjects Gates' husband. "We've got a party platters to collect from Dean and Deluca, and drinks are in less than three hours," he reminds his wife, checking his watch. "It was lovely meeting you both. In fact, why don't you come along tonight? Yes, I'm sure the Commissioner would love to hear all about your act of heroism, Rick," suggests Ray Gates, generously.

Their Captain doesn't miss a beat.

"Honey, I'm sure these two have better things to do on their weekend off than hang out with cops," says Gates, looking at Kate with something like pleading on her face.

"Actually, Ray, we would love to," says Castle, sweetly, jumping in to accept, before Kate can get over the horror of the invitation.

"Fantastic. Then we'll see you around 6.30pm. Vicky can text you the address," he adds, taking his wife's hand and turning them in the direction of West Broadway, en route to collect their canapés.

* * *

"What just happened?" wails Kate, clutching at Castle's arm in shock, forgetting all about their difficulties and physical boundaries for a second. "Tell me you did _not_ just accept an invitation to… You did, didn't you? Oh, _God!_" moans Kate, walking in a tight circle, pushing a hand through her hair so that she loosens some of her ponytail. "This is bad. This is _very, very bad._"

"He asked and he seems so _nice_," explains Castle, watching her pace. "And she clearly didn't want me there so…"

"So…_what?_" asks Kate, baffled by her partner's logic. "You thought we should go where we're not wanted? That makes absolutely no sense at all."

"It was a spur of the moment thing," he adds, biting his lip, worried by how upset Kate is behaving.

"Castle, we're supposed to be working on our relationship, deciding where we're going with our lives. Do you really think drinks at Captain Gates' apartment is the best place to be doing that?"

"Well, maybe not. But then again, it is neutral ground, and my mother won't be there to pitch in her peculiar brand of 'helpful advice'," he points out.

"Meh, maybe you're right," replies Kate, shrugging and faking a big smile, before rounding on Castle to give him both barrels. "And maybe we can ask the Commissioner what he thinks about us living together."

"Ooops," says Castle, slapping a hand to his mouth and then hurrying to catch up with Kate when she takes off along the street.

"I didn't mean for her to get the impression that we were living together," he argues, reaching for her arm.

"Yeah, another spur of the moment thing, I get it," snaps Kate, shaking her head.

"Didn't you hear her? Neutral ground, she said," he argues. "That means she's fine with it."

"Oh, good. Then maybe you want ask Gates if we should get married or have children. Because it seems you value her opinion over mine right now," she snaps.

"Kate, don't be like this," says Castle, catching hold of her hand and managing to slow her down by the time they reach Wooster.

Kate stops, backing up to a wall so that she can talk to him.

"I'm exhausted fighting with you. I was looking forward to a quiet dinner, Castle. Just the two of us. And now this?" she complains, shrugging helplessly.

"I know," he says quietly, stepping in closer to her, allowing his hands to land on her hips. "I screwed up," he whispers, lips brushing her ear. "Forgive me?"

Kate sways against him, running her hands up and down his arms, her breathing getting quicker and shallower when his lips touch hers.

"Don't do it again," she whispers back, moaning when he kisses her hard on the mouth.

* * *

_A/N: Okay, so contentious view in the first part (please no yelling) and that second part kind of threw me too. But they're Caskett. Can't keep them apart for long. Doesn't mean negotiations are over though. Just means a slight change of venue. _

_Good luck to all who are watching the finale live tonight and good luck being patient to those of us who have to wait a little longer. May the force be with you! See you on the other side, guys! Liv_


	8. Chapter 8 - Taking The Scenic Route

_A/N: Still recovering from Watershed, but I'll say no more in case you've yet to watch. We're seeing things from Castle's point of view in this chapter. Onwards..._

* * *

_**Chapter 8 – Taking The Scenic Route**_

Martha and Alexis appear with frightening speed the second Kate unlocks the front door; swarming, fluttering and hovering around them, creating the strange impression that there is more than just the two of them.

"Oh, darlings, you're home!" declares Martha, wrapping Kate up in a spectacular hug and spinning her round as is her way, sounding both delighted and relieved.

"Hey, Dad. Everything okay?" asks Alexis, giving her dad a kiss on the cheek, her pale blue eyes radiating concern.

"Getting to be, pumpkin," he replies, putting an arm around her shoulders as they walk to the kitchen together. "And thank you for asking."

The kiss they shared out on the street shook Kate and Castle with its suddenness, its bone-deep passion, the clinging need it stirred in both of them. But it was too public, too exposed, too soon, and it reminded Castle just how big a gulf had opened up between them over the last few days and why - another kiss with a different man weighing heavily on his mind, not aided by the curse of having a vivid imagination.

So they closed things down by mutual consent, more pressing things on their minds. And Kate's still mad at him for the whole Gates debacle, so yeah… Not out of the doghouse just yet.

Kate gives Alexis a warm smile and a reassuring wave, and then she walks off towards the bedroom, pulling the hair tie out of her ponytail as she goes.

"We have two hours, Castle," she calls over her shoulder, shaking her hair loose and running her hands through it. "And you better look out one of your expensive bottles of wine for tonight," she warns him, sashaying off to have a bath.

* * *

"What was that all about?" asks Martha, looking at her son to gauge his temperature.

"We're going to a cocktail party…" he explains, grimly.

"Oh, how lovely," coos his mother, completely missing his tone. "The change of scene will do you both the world of good," she tells him, clapping her hands.

"…_hosted_ by Captain Gates," continues Castle, ignoring his mother's chirpy outburst.

"_Oh,_" winces Alexis, catching on faster than her grandmother, who is still fixated on the word _'cocktail'_.

"Exactly," says Castle, slumping over the kitchen counter.

"Wait, did you just say…?" asks Martha, cocking her ear to one side.

"Iron Gates. Yes," nods Castle.

"But how on earth did that happen?" asks Martha, sounding deflated and crestfallen on her son's behalf.

"We ran into Gates and her husband on the way home. He invited us. And I, like a fool, accepted before I thought it through."

"And Kate's not happy with you, I take it?"

"Things were going so well," moans Castle, berating himself. "We talked, and we were finally getting somewhere. I'm such an idiot at times."

"I'm sure Kate doesn't blame you, dad," consoles Alexis, with her trademark naïve optimism and adoring grin.

"Try telling her that. Because she's doing a pretty good impersonation of someone who blames me right now."

"Nonsense, darling!" exclaims Martha. "Once she throws on a dress and a little lipstick, she'll be raring to go. No one can resist a party. Not even Beckett."

"Ordinarily, I'd agree with you. But with Captain Gates as the hostess and the Police Commissioner on the guest list, I'm not so sure even MAC's Russian Red can fix this mess."

"Dad, how do you even know about Russian Red?" laughs Alexis, twirling away from the kitchen, her phone in her hand. "You are _such_ a metrosexual. That is totally going on Twitter," she declares, scampering up the stairs.

"_Alexis!_" yells Castle, sighing and sinking down onto a stool by the counter when she ignores him. "I can withhold your tuition, you know," he tacks on pointlessly, to a derisive snort and a giggle from the upper landing.

* * *

"So, how'd it really go today?" asks Martha, lowering her voice. "You were gone a long time. I hoped that was a good sign."

"We had a lot to talk about."

"Well, I hope you took some time to listen. Always important for a man to listen. Too many of your species seem to forget that part," she says, rather unfairly, jabbing a finger at his chest. "God gave you ears for a reason, kiddo."

"I listened, mother. We both did. A lot of talking and a lot of listening," he sighs, running a hand through his hair.

"_And_…did you like what you heard?" prompts Martha, fishing for details.

"Some," admits Castle. "We agreed to work at it, that we need a plan for the future, some kind of commitment."

"Then I don't suppose you've though anymore about that ring?" sings Martha, shimmying from side to side with excitement, her hands clasped to her chest in a pose of wonder.

"I've thought of little else. But we're not there yet. Not by a long shot. And I want you to keep that to yourself, okay? Not a word to Kate or Alexis. Understand?"

"Of course, darling. But for once in your life, don't shilly shally over this, Richard. If you love that girl like you say you do, take my advice, and put a ring on it before someone else does."

"Mother, I know you mean well. But that is about the worse reason I've ever heard for proposing to someone. And quoting Beyonce, mother, _really?"_

Castle shakes his head, but his mother just shrugs.

"I'm going to take a shower," he tells her, kissing her on the cheek before he leaves.

* * *

Kate is already drying her hair when Castle reaches the bedroom, her short, white robe exposing long, tan legs and bare feet. He can't help but stare, wondering why on earth he stopped looking at her for a moment back there, how having Kate Beckett in his life came to be something he took for granted. He really let her think that he would rather play a video game with a fifteen-year-old kid, than feel the warmth and generosity of a naked Kate Beckett wrapped around him?

What a schmuck!

"Hey," says Kate, switching the hairdryer off and winding up the cord. "You get the third degree?" she asks, heading over to the closet, her mood evidently improved after a little time by herself.

Castle nods, smiling.

"Yeah, I'm recommending her for a job at Langley," he says. "Foreign spies won't stand a chance against Mata Hari out there."

Kate laughs at his humorous remark. "But you told her nothing."

"I kept it vague."

"Sounds about right for where we are," smiles Kate, and he can see that she doesn't mean it spitefully, since what she says is actually true; they haven't gotten specific about their future at all just yet.

"She…she does love you too, Kate. I know it can get stifling at times. The lack of privacy, the constant interference, the advice you wouldn't want to act on in a million lifetimes," he jokes, and they both laugh at that. "But does she care about what happens to both of us."

"I know," acknowledges Kate, lightly. "You showering?" she asks, as he walks over to the bed, pulling his t-shirt over his head and then dumping it in the laundry hamper.

He catches her watching him, not afraid to let him see her looking anymore – openly admiring his body - and that heartens him, arouses him even: her unveiled desire, the honesty of it.

"Yeah. Actually, weren't you going to take a bath?" he asks, realizing that she's ready way quicker than he thought she would be.

"Changed my mind. Too much time to think about tonight if I'm soaking in the tub," she explains, holding up two dresses on hangers to examine them.

"Deciding what to wear?"

"Hmm," hums Kate, distractedly. " And still trying to figure out how we ended up going to a party at Gates' house," she says, shaking her head in disbelief.

"You know, if you really want to call off, I can make something up," he offers, unbuckling his belt and shimmying out of his jeans.

"Ah, the perks of being with a bestselling author," teases Kate, and her easy smile twists something deep inside of him; something he'd forgotten was there. "Lies dressed up as fiction at the drop of a hat."

"It's not as if Gates is going to care. In fact, I'm pretty sure she'd be delighted if I call off," he points out.

"Yeah, well, that feels just a little too much like backing down to me. No, let's stick to the plan. Saturday evening with a roomful of cops and…"

"Venture capitalists," adds Castle, rolling up his belt and putting in back in the drawer.

"_Venture capitalists?_ How do you know that Ray is a venture capitalist?"

"He told us. Weren't you paying attention, detective?" teases Castle.

"No. I was too busy worrying that your hand was about to land on my ass in front of my boss," she fires back.

Castle barks out a laugh, balling up his socks and pitching them into the laundry hamper too. And it feels good to be back to something close to normal again.

"Neutral ground, remember?" he whispers, with a grin, passing her on the way to the bathroom.

Kate reaches out and catches his hand, tugging him to a stop.

"Hey," she says, giving him a reassuring smile. "We'll get through this, okay?"

"Tonight?" he asks, frowning, adding, "_Sure_," with confidence.

"Tonight, tomorrow, and all the ever afters," clarifies Kate. "We'll figure it out, Castle," she promises.

"I know," he tells her, leaning down to press a gentle kiss to the top of her head, before heading into the bathroom.

It's tentative, but it's a start. They just have to keep talking and he has to learn to accept that what happened with Eric Vaughn happened, neither he nor Kate can change that now. So he has to forgive her, accept his part in it, learn to trust her again and move on.

* * *

Kate is ready before him. She chooses a simple black, silk jersey cocktail dress that skims and drapes elegantly over her figure. Black heels, a gold clutch, the gold skull bracelet Castle gave her for Valentine's second time round, and a pair of simple drop earrings finish off her outfit. She's strapping her dad's watch onto her wrist when Castle comes out of the bathroom, still damp from the shower, accompanied by a cloud of fragrant steam.

"Wow! You look _good_," he tells her, pleased to see the beaming smile she gives him back, the faint blush of pleasure his spontaneous compliment brings to her cheeks.

"And you look even better," she replies, boldly, coming over to tug playfully on Castle's towel, where it's knotted low on his hips.

"_Mmm_, what's got into you?" he asks, putting his arms around her as she nestles her pelvis against his.

"I don't like fighting…_and_ I figure that if we can get past this, we can get past pretty much anything."

"You really believe that?" he asks, looking down at her, staring into her eyes when Kate raises hers to meet his.

"There are no guarantees in life, Castle. We both know that. But, I don't think it should stop us from trying. Do you?"

"Just promise me one thing?" he asks her seriously, watching Kate tilt her head to listen to his request.

"Anything."

"Don't leave me alone with Captain Gates tonight," he begs, swaying with Kate when she slaps his chest and starts to laugh.

He nuzzles her neck and she squeals, squirming in his arms.

"You're getting me wet," she protests, innocently, as water runs out of his damp hair and down into her cleavage.

"Oh, _dirty,_ Beckett. I like it," leers Castle, recoiling when Kate pinches his nipple and then makes her escape.

"Be ready to leave in fifteen minutes," she tells him, grabbing her clutch from the bed and heading out into the living room. "We don't have time for three shirt changes tonight, Castle," she calls out over her shoulder, laughing when he sticks his tongue out at her.

* * *

Castle sinks down onto the bed, feeling more relaxed and hopeful than he has in several days; happier, lighter in his heart. He realizes now that he has to accept the things about Kate that he doesn't like, but can't change, in order for them to move forward. But, then she has to do the exact same thing when it comes to him. Arguably, she did that before they even got together, since she rejected him for years until she made her peace with why she believed they weren't a good fit and allowed herself to fall in love with him.

He opens the top drawer in his nightstand and feels towards the back where he hid the engagement ring. He opens the black velvet box and the diamonds instantly come alive, catching the light, sparkling up at him; so pure, strong, radiant and clear. He takes the ring out of the box, twisting it back and forth to watch the light shatter against each facet, reflecting back the individual colors of the spectrum. He holds it at just the right angle to catch violet - his favorite - staring for several seconds while it winks at him like a star in the night sky, like something living, and then he palms the ring, feeling the coolness of metal and carbon fade as it is warmed by his hand.

He loves her, maybe always has. But her mistakes still twist in his gut when he thinks about them and how they spoiled his perfect. So he puts the ring back in it's slot, closes the lid with a snap, returning the box to the drawer for now, until the time is right.

* * *

He dresses more quickly than usual for the party, knowing exactly which shirt to wear to catch Kate's eye tonight, and he's soon out by her side with a bottle of Chateauneuf du Pape tucked under his arm, actually a little excited to be going out with her to this. It might only be a cocktail party hosted by her boss, but it's a chance to socialize in public as an actual couple, to spend time together, to talk, even, when they catch a late dinner on the way home.

Optimism buoys him, putting a spring in his step; his day ending better than it began.

"You ready?" he asks Kate, holding out his hand to her.

"As I'll ever be," replies Kate, giving him a brave smile in return.

"Good. Then let's do this," says Castle, leading her to the front door.

* * *

_A/N: A can't believe we have until September to wait for an answer from Beckett. But wait we shall, with fan fiction to console us and keep us company. Love to hear your thoughts. I'm taking this slow since we now have all summer. Party time next.. Liv_


	9. Chapter 9 - A Trip Down Memory Lane

_A/N: Apologies for the delay. This chapter took a little longer. And it turned out longer too, so hopefully that's some consolation…_

* * *

_"Come take my hand_

_I want the world to see_

_What you mean to me"_

_**- Sterling Knight**, 'What you Mean To Me'_

* * *

_**Chapter 9 – A Trip Down Memory Lane**_

"You're sure this is the place?" asks Castle, peering out the side window of the town car, his eyes drawn ever upwards.

"This is the address Gates texted me," says Kate, showing Castle her phone.

"Sheesh. Then unless there's something you forgot to share with me about cop salaries, I'm going with venture capital must be thriving, even in this economy."

They're on Madison Avenue - the Upper East Side - in the seventies. The Mark Hotel is across the street, cattycorner to the Carlyle, and Central Park is one block West, the Met Museum a mere five blocks away. This is the land of serious money, where three bedroom apartments in coops like this one change hands for sums in the $5-7 million range.

Captain Gates has been keeping secrets, and Castle couldn't be more delighted.

* * *

"You sure you're ready for this?" he asks, taking a moment before they get out of the car, while Kate checks her reflection in her compact.

"What?" she laughs, amused by how nervous he suddenly seems. "Drinks with Gates and the Commissioner? I think I've handled worse."

"No, I meant coming out as a couple," says Castle, solemnly.

"Coming out?" she frowns, never having thought about it like that before now.

"In public. Judging by the drivers waiting up and down this street, there are going to be a lot more people of influence at this shindig than just the Police Commissioner. In fact, I think I see the Mayor's car across the street," he muses, peering between the front seats to look out the windshield.

"Are _you _ready?" she asks, feeling something begin flutter in her own stomach.

"If you are."

"Then, yes. Yes, let's get out there and make a statement," says Kate, definitively, giving her partner a brave smile.

* * *

She exits the car on the sidewalk with the aid of the driver, and Castle is quickly round by her side. They both look up at the handsome, red brick, pre-war building, with its distinctive bright green, copper-clad roof and white-framed windows. The base is a three-story, rusticated limestone with a large entrance marquee and there's some fancy floral landscaping on the sidewalk out front. There are balconies on the 14th floor and arched windows on the floor above that.

"Why do you suppose they were collecting platters of food from Dean and Deluca when they live here and the party is catered?" asks Kate, ever the detective, pointing to a white catering company van parked across the street, two uniformed staff unloading supplies from the back.

Castle shrugs. "It's Gates, maybe she wanted back-up," he jokes, watching Kate's face blossom into an amazing smile. "Oh, you liked that one, didn't you," he smirks, reveling in his ability to draw a smile from his girlfriend.

"I liked it more when you didn't gloat," she tells him, patting him on the cheek, affectionately.

"Look, Kate," he says, turning serious all of a sudden, running a hand down each arm and then stopping to cradle her elbows, drawing her closer to him. "Whatever happens tonight, you look _amazing_. And I am so proud to be with you."

"Thank you," she responds, surprised. "Me too. But what does that mean? Whatever happens?" asks Kate, mildly alarmed.

"I just…" Castle shrugs. "Social events can be unpredictable. We've had a rocky few days. This isn't the best time to be doing this. My fault entirely, I know," he jumps in to say, holding up his hand to acknowledge his mistake in accepting the invitation before consulting her. "Just…let's stay close. Okay? And remember: don't leave me alone with her," he whispers in Kate's ear, planting a kiss on her cheek, before leading them towards the entrance.

* * *

The doorman checks a clipboard, which they seem to have been added to at the last minute; their names scrawled in pen below the typed up roll call of official invitees.

"We made the list, Beckett," he mutters, as they're escorted into the elevator. "Don't you feel as if you just went up in the world?" he jokes, as the elevator begins to rise.

"Shhh," hushes Kate, trying hard to remain dignified while Castle stands behind her, his wandering fingers caressing her spine.

Her dress is cut low at the back, exposing bare skin from her shoulders to her waist where it gathers in a deep swathe of fabric that forms a sweeping, sexy curve that accentuates her rear.

"Did I ever tell you how much I like this dress?" he whispers, resting his chin on her shoulder, his mouth next to her ear, nose nudging into her hair.

"You may have mentioned something," mutters Kate, staring straight ahead, trying to remain unaffected by her partner's proximity and wandering hands.

"Beckett, where's your bra?" he hisses, running his thumb all the way down her spine, his other hand holding onto her hip.

"Where do you think?" smirks Kate, feeling her nipples tighten like cough drops the second Castle asks the question and the penny drops.

"You mean you're…?" he chokes, gripping her hip even tighter.

"I thought your powers of detection had improved working with me. Clearly not," she fires back, aiming for withering, but having to bite her cheek to keep from laughing at the response this little nugget of information is eliciting from him; the firm evidence suddenly pressing up against her right buttock.

"Did I tell you how much I _love_ this dress?" Castle parrots again, and Kate can't stop herself from laughing this time.

"You don't have to tell me," she whispers back, cupping him through the front of his charcoal dress pants without turning round, "when you're already showing me."

She hears him gulp and arch his hips away from her sending him bouncing off the back of the elevator car, and she smiles to herself, thinking, 'score one from Beckett', while the elevator operator discreetly looks the other way.

* * *

The doors finally open, and the scene before them is nothing short of opulent.

They can hear music coming from somewhere nearby, a pianist playing in one of the public rooms. Two uniformed wait staff are stationed a few feet away, ready to greet them with a glass of Champagne.

"_See_," beams Kate, accepting a glass, "this isn't so bad," she reassures her partner, clinking her glass against his and taking a sip.

She has barely finished her first mouthful, the bubbles still peppery-fresh and bursting on her tongue, when her name rings out in the marble entranceway, forcing her head to the left.

"_Ahhh,_ Detective Beckett!" booms Captain Gates, expansively, bustling towards them from further down the hallway with a beaming smile on her face.

Kate feels Castle's hand tighten in hers' as her boss gets nearer.

"_And_…into the woods we go," he murmurs, dropping her hand at the very last second.

"You have a beautiful home, Sir," says Kate, looking down at her feet slightly submissively. "Thank you for inviting us."

"Please, call me Vicky, Detective," winks Gates, and Kate wonders if she just heard Castle groan. "Welcome, Mr. Castle," says Gates, turning her attention to the writer and offering him her hand.

"Thank you, Vicky," replies Castle, with the practiced ease of a man used to being in the public eye. "And I think I can speak for Detective Beckett, when I say, Rick and Kate will do just fine this evening."

Gates stares at him for a long, uncomfortable moment, clearly wondering if he's messing with her. The tension is thankfully broken by the arrival of her charming husband, Ray.

"You made it. Delighted to see both of you," he says, leaning down to kiss Kate on both cheeks. "And my, don't you scrub of beautifully," he adds, holding Kate at arms length so he can look at her properly. "You are one lucky guy," he tells Castle, vigorously shaking hands with the writer.

"Well, that makes two of us," replies Castle, earning himself another squinty-eyed stare from Gates.

"Come on through, I have some people I'd like you to meet," offers Ray Gates, instantly making them feel welcome, both a clever man and a charming host.

"Kate, can I have a word?" asks Captain Gates, holding her back.

Kate glances at Castle in alarm, but he gives her a discreet nod and an encouraging smile, quite happy to follow Ray into the melee it would appear.

"I'll come find you," she promises, turning back to her boss.

"Sir?" she asks, out of habit, before shaking her head and adding, "Sorry, Vicky. You wanted to tell me something?"

* * *

Before they can speak any further the elevator doors open, and a distinguished looking couple exit, the man's vibrant silk necktie and familiar steel-grey buzz cut immediately catching Kate's eye.

"Would you excuse me for a second," says Gates, confidentially, giving Kate's arm a squeeze. "Ray. Veronica," she coos, stepping forward to welcome her friends. "So good of you to come."

"Miss a party of yours?" asks Ray Kelly, greeting Gates with a kiss. "Not a chance. How are you, Vicky? Working hard if the CompStats coming out of your house are any indication. Still cracking the whip, I assume."

"Ray," admonishes his wife, giving Gates a warm hug. "Enough shop talk for one day."

"Actually, I have someone I'd like you both to meet," says Gates, turning to beckon Kate over. "Detective Kate Beckett, Commissioner Kelly and his wife, Veronica. Kate is one of the main reasons our close rate always looks so good," she says, generously, ushering Kate forward to shake hands with the Commissioner and his wife.

"Sir, it's an honor," says Kate, dipping her head in respect to the office Ray Kelly holds. "And Mrs. Kelly, so lovely to meet you."

"Veronica, dear. We're all off duty tonight."

"So, this is the famous Detective Beckett. I heard about that bomb incident a couple of weeks ago. You must have nerves of steel," says the Commissioner.

"Thank you, Sir," replies Kate, blushing a little. "That was a close call. But, thankfully, I didn't have to do it on my own."

"And here is the hero of the hour, Raymond," announces Gates' husband, bringing Castle over to meet the Commissioner.

"Richard Castle. A real pleasure to meet you, Sir," says Castle, jauntily, shaking the Commissioner's hand and then introducing himself to the man's wife.

"I was just telling Rick that he put the rest of us to shame with that romantic gesture he made to Detective Beckett, staying by her side until they figured out how to disarm that bomb," says Ray Gates, patting Castle on the back, blowing his wife's plans for plausible deniability out the window in the process.

"Yeah, you sure made us all look bad with that one, Mr. Castle," acknowledges the Police Commissioner. "I won't even stay with Veronica while she has her nails done. Can't stand the smell or the gossip," he confides, with a wink to his wife.

They all laugh politely at the Commissioner's joke, and Kate feels Castle's hand settle low on her back when he gets close enough to stand by her side.

"Oh, I'm sure we'd all do the same for the ones we love given similar circumstances," concedes Castle, circling his fingers against Kate's spine.

This public declaration does not go unnoticed by Kate, and she finds herself reaching for Castle's hand and giving it a squeeze.

"Kids and pets, maybe," jokes Ray Kelly. "The wife, I'm not so sure about."

"These two seem to attract trouble like it's going out of fashion. So, it's a good job that they have each other's backs," Gates tells everyone. "Last year, it was a tiger, believe it or not," she adds, rolling her eyes comically; failing to mention that she almost grounded them after that case.

"How do you do it?" asks Veronica Kelly, turning to speak to Kate. "Working such long hours, running a home, and do you have children, Detective?"

"Please, call me Kate, and no. Castle has a daughter. Alexis. She's a freshman at Columbia. But I don't have any children of my own."

Castle's thumb caresses her skin in a manner she supposes is meant to instill sympathy or apology for the woman's personal question. They haven't talked about marriage or kids yet, so he doesn't even know if not having children is a regret of hers, and she wonders if that strikes him as wrong – since this is probably something he should know about her. It's ironic that the subject should come up in this way, today of all days; so bluntly and so publically.

"Well, Kate is bound for great things," says Victoria Gates, stepping in to either save her or sell her; Kate isn't sure which. "She has a great career in law enforcement ahead of her. That I can guarantee."

"Right, enough police talk for one night," intercedes Ray Gates. "There are canapés circling, the bar is set up in the library, pool table's in the den for those who wish to partake, and there's a wicked looking chocolate torte with my name on it in the kitchen," he jokes, guiding Ray Kelly and his wife into the living room to mingle.

* * *

"You are quite the hero around here," whispers Kate, once they're alone in a quiet corner, gripping Castle by his lapel.

"That doing it for you, Detective?" grins Castle, giving her a quick kiss on the forehead.

"Actually, on a serious note, I want you to know how much that meant to me that day, Castle. Having you stay with me, distract me – even if it was with your ridiculous theories about who fell for whom first. And when you came back…"

Kate shakes her head, looking up at him with such love in her eyes.

"You save me all the time," she tells him, meaning way more than the scrapes they get into at work.

"Now, that reminds me, I need to update my score," Castle butts in, breaking the romantic moment, though Kate knows he's doing it on purpose to save her from getting too emotional in public.

She laughs, reaching past him for another glass of Champagne from a passing waiter.

"Still keeping score, huh?"

"Of course. That, and number of times in one night…" he winks at her, wiggling his eyebrows.

"You or me?" she challenges him.

"Why _you_ of course, Detective."

"You're keeping count of how many times you've made me come in one night?" she whisper-hisses, giggling, watching him nod vigorously, his face morphing into a proud grin. "How many?" she asks, putting one hand on her hip, drinking Champagne with the other.

"Remember my birthday?" he grins, wickedly. "We made it to _five,_" he tells her, holding up one hand, all the fingers splayed wide.

"You were on crutches," she laughs, blushing at the vivid memories his comments have just fired up in her brain.

"And you were on your knees most of the time, as I recall," he replies, looking as pleased as punch.

"_Rick!_" Kate splutters, looking around to see if anyone can hear them.

"Should I behave?" he asks her, leaning in to kiss her softly, fingers threading through her hair to caress the back of her neck.

Kate sways against him, reaching to one side to hold onto the console table that rests against the wall for balance.

"This is your idea of good behavior?" she asks, feeling slightly dizzy and breathless after the kiss and the Champagne.

"If it's not yours you can always cuff me later," rebuts Castle, a cheeky grin on his face.

"Oh, you can count on it," leers Kate, kissing him back one last time.

"Shall we get something to eat?" suggests Castle, eager for food and a snoop around Gates' pad.

"Lead on," Kate tells him, holding onto the back of Castle's jacket as they head in the direction of the kitchen.

"Was that…?" hisses Kate, tugging Castle's sleeve as they traverse the large living room.

"Brian Williams and Arianna Huffington," nods Castle, impressed by Ray Gates' social reach.

Men and women alike watch Kate glide through the house and Castle ushers her ahead of him just to get the chance to watch the effect she has on people – the men desirous, the women envious. She makes him so proud to be with her, with her intelligence, her confidence, her kindness and her beauty. She has this aura he just wants to bask in; a personality he wants to be around. It's a feeling he wants forever, if he can have it.

* * *

"What did Gates want to talk to you about?" Castle asks, once they're happily munching on beef sliders, sushi and mini lobster rolls in the supersized kitchen.

"Don't know," frowns Kate. "We got interrupted before she could tell me. Commissioner and his wife were friendly."

"Mmm," nods Castle, wiping his mouth with a napkin. "Not short on personal questions though," he adds.

"You mean the kids thing?" asks Kate, determined not to backslide into subtext again.

"Yeah. I don't know how you feel about that."

"Doesn't bother me. It's something I've been asked a lot over the years," says Kate, missing his point. "Goes with the territory when you're a woman. You get used to it," she shrugs.

"No, I…that's not exactly what I meant."

Kate cocks her head to the side, waiting for him to elaborate.

"What I meant was, I don't know how you feel about having kids period."

A waiter comes in with a tray of empty plates and begins loading the dishwasher. Kate glances at the kid, considering whether on not to answer Castle's question or shut the subject down for later, when they're in private.

She decides to go with the moment.

"I always thought that I would have children someday. But then the longer I was on job the more it seemed like a remote possibility, if not a bad idea altogether. You see a lot that makes you think 'is this a world I want to bring a child into'? You know what I'm talking about. You've seen it too. How beastly people can be to one another, how unfair life can be, how fragile. And then there's the danger, the unsociable hours, salary isn't great. Not to mention, I never met the right guy."

"And now? What do you think about it now?"

"What do _you_ think?" asks Kate, turning the tables on him as usual, instead of giving him an honest reaction of her own.

"Kate," Castle says gently, "I asked you first. Knee-jerk reaction. Do you want to have a baby or not?"

"Wow! Big day for big questions," she blushes, feeling put on the spot all of a sudden.

"Look, you were right earlier when you said that we were drifting, and we agreed we would make a plan. And babies take a little planning. Not to mention the planning part is the actual fun part," he grins, waiting for her answer. "So, what do you think?" he asks, gently stroking her arm.

"Are we actually talking about having a baby together while standing in Gates' kitchen?" asks Kate, her voice filled with amusement and wonder.

"Just to clarify, I wasn't suggesting we start trying here and now," jokes Castle, lightening the heavy discussion.

Kate rolls her eyes at him and then focuses more seriously on answering the question.

"I wouldn't be averse to thinking about it," she says slowly, her heart pounding, because they're finally talking about the important stuff. "But I do mean _think_, Castle. We have lots of things to consider here. You already have a grown up daughter. Maybe you don't want to start over, raising a baby from scratch."

"Hey, I'll do whatever you want. You can't give up on having a family of your own just because there's a slight age gap between us and I already have a kid. How would that be fair?"

"_Slight?_" laughs Kate, earning a pout from Castle. "Look, that's very generous of you," she acknowledges, squeezing his hand. "Why don't we plan a few interim changes in the meantime, and keep the baby thing on the back burner for now. Hmm?"

"Interim changes?" grins Castle. "Like, if I asked you nicely, would you be prepared to move in with me kind of interim change?"

"Is this the Champagne talking?" asks Kate, her eyes flicking over his, trying to read whether he's being serious or not.

"No, this is _me_ talking. In fact, technically, it's me _asking_ if you would like to move in with me? Come on, Kate, we're practically living together as it is. We've talked about moving things forward. Gates knows, the boys know, my mom and Alexis would be over the moon. And above all of that, I want you there, waking me up in the middle of the night with my remote controlled toys, cooking me breakfast on Sunday mornings, wandering around my bedroom naked."

"As usual, it's all about you," she laughs, prodding him in the chest. "What's in it for me?"

"I'll buy you your own helicopter," he offers, with a glint in his eye. "What do you say?"

* * *

Before Kate can come up with an answer, a loud male voice booms across the kitchen.

"So this is where you've been hiding out."

"Bob, you old dog!" laughs Castle, turning to shake hands with his friend, Mayor Robert Wheldon. "You remember Kate," he adds, ushering Kate forward to do the same.

"How could I forget," says Wheldon, bowing to kiss Kate's hand. "I heard a rumor you were here. But it's a party and I've never known Rick Castle to hide out in the kitchen before. Back in the day, he'd have been out by that piano leading the crowd in a medley of show tunes by now. You must be a civilizing influence, Kate. When are you going to make an honest man out of him?"

Kate blushes, and Castle looks positively shell-shocked, for reasons Kate misinterprets. She makes an excuse and heads to the ladies room to freshen up, leaving Wheldon and Castle to catch up.

"She is stunning, that one," says Wheldon, watching Kate walk away. "Gets better every time I see her. And smart too, from what I hear. You are one lucky son of a bitch, Ricky," he adds, slapping Castle on the back.

"Yeah, you're not wrong there," replies Castle, deep in thought.

Make an honest man of him? More like when is he going to do the decent thing and make an honest woman of her. He suddenly wishes he'd brought the ring with him, slipped it into his pocket just in case. Being out amongst other people, real life, and faced with so many reminders of how good they are together when they just talk things through and communicate with one another, Castle feels more positive about everything. He wants her forever, will do almost anything to keep her. And it seems so simple right at this moment, as if he needed other people to show him how fortunate he is, and yet again, he realizes how dangerously close to losing her he came just by taking her for granted.

* * *

"How about we get out of here. Move you a little closer to that piano," suggests Wheldon, helping himself to a plate of finger food and steering Castle back into the throng.

They catch up on City politics; Wheldon answering Castle's questions on the forthcoming Mayoral race where it's rumored Ray Kelly may run as a candidate. The two men nod politely to one another in passing, but make no move to interact further.

"He stand a chance?" asks Castle, watching Commissioner Kelly work the room like the cop-turned-politician that he is.

"Quinn's the front-runner for my money," says Wheldon, referencing the Democratic City Council Speaker, Christine Quinn. "Woman in the job might be no bad thing. Marriage equality, the state of our school system, greener public spaces, these have all become hotter topics now that crime and vandalism have stabilized under my administration. Quinn has a lot of support already and she hasn't even officially announced her candidacy."

Castle tunes out after a while, scanning the room for Kate, eventually spying her talking to a group of well-preserved, expensive looking women at the far end of the room.

"Hey, over here," joshes Wheldon, snapping his fingers in an attempt to get Castle's attention. "She can handle herself with the Park Avenue crowd, Rick. Don't worry," he says, breaking into Castle's thoughts.

"I know," replies Castle, giving Kate a warm smile when he catches her eye. "We just…we haven't really been out in public before. As a couple. And…" he shakes his head and rubs the back of his neck, a little uncomfortable sharing, but needing to talk to someone. "Things have been a little…_confused_ lately."

"Confused? How so? I heard about that bomb, Rick. How you stayed with her. Seems like you'd do pretty much anything for Kate. So, forgive me for saying, but that doesn't sound like the actions of a man who's confused to me."

"Yeah, I'm beginning to think that maybe you're right. Maybe the answer's been staring me in the face all along."

"Sounds serious."

"As a heart attack," mutters Castle to himself.

* * *

Kate is the center of attention amongst the small group of women Gates' just landed her with. They want to know all about homicide work – asking for far gorier details than men ever ask – and then talk moves onto her partner.

"So, what's it like being followed around by a hunky mystery writer?" asks one bold, bottle-blond, former beauty queen.

The woman turns to look over at Castle when she's finished asking her question, her tongue practically hanging out as she does so. And Kate gets a flashback to times of old, to the lifetime they had working together before they became a couple; how she had to endure situations like this and questions like these in suffering silence, since Castle himself had no idea she had feelings for him, even if he could already see that there was a spark between them.

"Irritating," answers Kate, smiling when they all laugh in surprise, "…at first. But, now…now I wouldn't be without him," she says honestly, turning to take his arm when Castle appears by her side.

"Were your ears burning?" she asks Castle, proceeding to introduce him to the fawning little gang of admirers.

"Ladies," replies Castle, dutifully kissing hands and accepting a hug from the busty, bottle-blonde.

He backs off immediately, and Kate is grateful that this is who he is now – hers – proud that this is who they're becoming as a couple. She realizes how big a mistake she made misjudging him in the past and how stupid she's been lately, complaining that he was taking her for granted instead of sitting him down and talking things through. She hates that she's hurt him. Now she just desperately wants them to move on.

* * *

"Hey, that question you asked me earlier," she says, after excusing them from the gaggle of women, taking his hand and leading him back towards the hallway where they can talk more privately. "I have an answer for you," she grins, her heart tripping in her chest.

Castle's eyes roam her face, drinking in every last inch of her, and then he kisses her lightly on the cheek, brushing his nose against her skin, his heart just swelling with love for her.

"How about you hold that thought while I get us another glass of Champagne," he says, squeezing her hand, before turning away to find a waiter.

"Castle…" calls out Kate, not wanting him to leave before he hears this, not even for a second.

He turns back towards her, and hearing the tone of her voice, seeing the need in her eyes, the need she obviously has to say something important, he comes back.

"I want you to hear my answer," she says, dipping her fingers into the waist of his pants and tugging to bring him closer.

"Then before you tell me, how about you let me slightly rephrase the question?"

"Rephrase?" asks Kate, her brow furrowing. "You haven't changed your mind, have you? Because…"

"Kate, will you marry me?" asks Castle impulsively, just as the elevator doors open, and in walks Eric Vaughn.

* * *

_A/N: Dun, dun, dunnnnn! :O_


	10. Chapter 10 - Potholes

_A/N: So, Vaughn, huh? What about that bad boy. Let's see what happens next, shall we?_

* * *

_**Chapter 10 – Potholes On The Road To Paradise**_

_Previously..._

_"Kate, will you marry me?" asks Castle impulsively, just as the elevator doors open, and in walks Eric Vaughn._

* * *

Castle freezes. But Kate is too stunned by his question to notice; the simple words of his proposal still echoing around inside her head like a mantra. When her brain does begin to function again, she sees that, instead of looking expectant, hopeful, joyous, or even nervous, like the man in love he seemed to be just a second ago, Castle looks stricken, shocked, maybe even a little angry, and he's looking past her, instead of _at_ her, to boot.

She's on the point of asking him what's wrong and turning round to check where his gaze seems to be fixated, when she hears the cool, clipped tones of a familiar English accent, a cultured voice that instantly sends a shiver down her spine.

"Good evening, Detective. We meet again."

Kate looks up at Castle and he nods at her imperceptibly confirming her fears, his eyes dead, mouth drawn into a firm line, robbed of his moment of triumph - victory so close – by the man who has become his most recent nemesis.

Kate slowly pivots on her heels, turning to face the man who almost ruined the best relationship she's ever had.

"Kate," smiles Vaughn, warmly, his voice coated in honey that drips over the syllables of her name, as he holds out his hand to her. "So good to see you again. And don't you look ravishing."

And in that split second, it's as if she's seeing this man afresh, seeing him for who he really is for the very first time. And she's surprised to find that she doesn't like what she sees at all.

Kate shakes her head slightly, standing her ground, her right hand hanging limply by her side as she refuses Vaughn's handshake, the left one clutched tightly around her Champagne flute, her knuckles turned white.

"And Mr. Castle," sings Vaughn, looking past Kate at the writer, seemingly not put off in the slightest by her rebuff. "What a surprise to see you here."

"I…" stammers Kate, turning back to look at Castle, the ruins of his proposal lying in shattered, invisible fragments at their feet.

Just when it seems that things can't get any worse, Captain Gates appears along the corridor and she's headed right in their direction.

Kate makes a split-second decision, seizing the opportunity to head her off at the pass. She touches Castle's arm, speaking to him in barely more than a whisper.

"Be right back," she promises, communicating as much with her eyes, as by anything she says.

She doesn't hang around to see how he responds.

* * *

"Kate," beams Gates', peering past her to where Castle is now in something of a Mexican standoff with Eric Vaughn. "Having a good time, I hope?"

"Sir, can I have a word?" she asks, taking her boss by the arm and leading her back around the corner out of earshot.

"Is there a problem, detective?" asks Gates, unamused by Kate's tone and the firm grip her subordinate has on her elbow.

"Why didn't you warn me that Eric Vaughn was going to be here?" asks Kate, plaintively, her head reeling with all that's just transpired.

Richard Castle has just proposed to her. _Actually proposed_. And now she can't tell if the only reason he did so is because Eric Vaughn showed up on the scene.

"Kate, I did try. On two occasions," Gates assures her.

"_Sir?_" asks Kate, shaking her head in confusion, wondering how on earth she could have missed that.

"When we met downtown, and my dear, sweet, clueless husband invited you two along tonight. If you remember, I did try to dissuade you from coming…" she explains, pursing her lips and raising an eyebrow, waiting for the penny to drop.

"_Oh,_" nods Kate, remembering the look of discouragement on her boss's face when the invitation was made and then hearing her say something about them having better things to do on their weekend off than spend it with a bunch of cops. "And the second time?" she asks.

"I fully intended to warn you as soon as you got here tonight. But then I got side-tracked when the Kellys arrived. I'm sorry. I know things got a little…_difficult_ for you and Mr. Castle when you were assigned to protect Vaughn. But this is something you will both have to learn to navigate if you want to continue working together," advises Gates, with more sympathy and understanding that Kate honestly expects. "You know, Department rules are these for a reason, Kate. Not just to spoil your fun. This is one of those reasons," she points out, patting Kate on the arm.

"Thank you, Sir," says Kate, nodding thoughtfully. "And thank you for entertaining us tonight. But I think maybe it's time we went home," she says, quietly.

"You're very welcome. Both of you," she says politely, turning to walk away. But then she backs up a few steps to add, "You should know that everyone has been saying what a fabulous couple you two make. And, Kate, I might not acknowledge it most of the time, but I have witnessed first hand how devoted that man is to you, how hard he works for you and your team. Don't let momentary distractions sway you from your path. Enjoy the rest of your weekend. I'll see you back at the precinct on Monday."

* * *

When Kate turns around, both Vaughn and Castle are nowhere to be seen. She feels sick to her stomach. This should be one of the most special moments of her life, of both their lives. In her one-and-done view of the world, a woman should hear only one proposal in her lifetime, and hers has just been ruined; thrown into question by the untimely reappearance of Eric Vaughn. They've spent the last couple of days tearing each other to shreds over this. No way is she going to let the progress they've made go to waste.

She sets out looking for Castle, intending to get them both the hell out of there so she can talk to him in private. She heads for the kitchen, believing that might be where he'd go, seeking solace in food perhaps.

But when she enters the kitchen, she is confronted by a perfectly coiffured Eric Vaughn instead, his slim frame clad in custom made suit, shirt and shoes, lingering over by the canapés, deep in conversation with his personal assistant.

"Sonia, could you please give us a moment," she hears him telling the slinky young woman the second his eyes alight on Kate.

The assistant tosses Kate a haughty, starved-looking stare and then gavottes past her out of the room on the highest pair of Louboutins she has ever seen, curls bouncing perkily against her bony back.

"I hoped I'd see you again," says Vaughn, with trademark directness, just as Kate turns away to follow the assistant out of the room when she realizes that Castle is obviously somewhere else in the apartment. "In fact, I tried hard to make certain that I would."

"Excuse me?" she replies, turning back to face Vaughn, not believing what she's hearing.

"Oh, don't be naïve, Kate. How do you think I got to where I am today? By holding back when I saw something I wanted? No," he says chillingly. "If I see something I want, I go after it, just like the majority of the people in the next room."

"Are you saying what I think you're saying?" asks Kate, wondering how on earth this man and his pushy candor ever held any sway over her.

"I'm saying you're the sole reason I came here tonight. I thought there was a good chance that your boss and her successful husband might include you on the guest list. You are elegant, poised, articulate, an asset in any social setting, and Victoria's high-flying, most successful protégé. And I was right," he adds, sounding almost as if he's gloating. "Here you are," he purrs, appraising her like a piece of fine art.

"I'm here with Castle. We were invited as a _couple_," explains Kate, keen to disabuse Vaughn of any ambiguity he might have sensed from her over her relationship. "And whatever impression you might have gotten from me, whatever you think you might know about our relationship, you're _wrong_. Now, I accept that that was partly my fault. I wasn't clear enough at the Fairmont. But I'm telling you now, so that there can be no misunderstanding. I'm with Castle."

"No. No, Kate, we made a connection in that hotel suite, you and I. This is destiny," insists Vaughn, still failing to take no for an answer.

Kate snorts derisively, but he surprises her, catching hold of her arm when she makes a move to leave the room.

"I don't believe in destiny," she tells him, coldly. "Now let go of me," she insists, slowly lifting her arm, hoping he will simply release her without any more trouble.

"Kismet, then. _Fate_," he attempts, not giving up, gripping her more tightly, until her bracelet digs painfully into the bones of her wrist. "Whatever name you want to give it, Kate, this meeting was meant to be."

"I don't believe in fate either," says Kate, through gritted teeth, trying hard to remain calm, since she is in her boss's home, there's a room full of influential people right next door and she does not want to make a scene. She draws herself up to her full height, and rounds on Eric Vaughn, her voice low and threatening as she kills this dead once and for all. "But I'll tell you what I do believe in. I believe in Richard Castle. And he's twice the man you'll ever be. So, once again, let me go. Before I knock you on your ass."

She's just wrenching her wrist free from Vaughn's grip when Castle appears at the entrance to the kitchen. He sees them standing close together and freezes, his face turning to stone. Then he turns on his heel and flees.

"Stay away from us," hisses Kate, as a parting shot, jabbing a finger in Vaughn's direction, immediately leaving to go after Castle.

* * *

She catches up with him out by the elevator. He's pacing the floor when she first sees him, then he pauses, tapping his foot impatiently in front of the elevator doors, muttering 'Come on, come on,' to himself, as she watches from a slight distance away. He has his hands jammed into his pockets, and his posture is stooped. Kate's heart twists like a tourniquet in her chest watching him torture himself over what she suspects he thinks he just witnessed.

The pianist in the lounge begins a rendition of Billy Joel's 'Piano Man', and a few tuneless voices join in to sing along with the rousing, melodic number, the party atmosphere suddenly kicking up a notch. Kate's heart clenches when she hears the song, memories of Roy and the boys and a bottle of ancient Whisky Castle paid far too much for coming back to flood her mind. How close they all were that night, how happy. The song taunts them both, though neither says anything, and suddenly she can't wait to leave the party either.

"Let's get out of here," says Kate, sweeping into the elevator ahead of him when the doors open just as she arrives by his side.

Castle stands on the outside, frozen, as if he can't bear to be in her company.

"Castle," she says, putting a hand out prevent the doors from closing on him, the elevator operator evidently having left for the night. "Let's go."

He's still hesitating when another couple of people appear from the party and he's forced to get in alongside her lest things look really awkward.

They make polite small talk all the way to the ground floor, while Castle stares at his feet, failing to join in.

* * *

"Do we have to call Sam?" asks Kate, looking up and down the street for Castle's car service.

"I already did," he says grimly, pointing to the black Mercedes idling on the other side of the street.

"Great. Then let's go home," says Kate quietly, heading for the car.

"Not until you tell me what that was back there. You and Vaughn in the kitchen having a cozy little chat," he says, sounding spiteful amidst his hurt.

"You may think that's what you saw, but believe me you didn't," Kate tries to reassure him, not wanting to get into an argument over this out on the sidewalk.

"Then tell me, what was that?" he insists.

"Rick, don't do this," sighs Kate. "Don't…_ruin_ a perfect evening over nothing."

"_Ruin—?_" gasps Castle, as if she just slapped him. "I just _proposed_ to you, Kate. And before I can even get an answer, I find you alone with _that guy_ having some kind of intimate conversation. What am I supposed to think?"

"Is that why you proposed?" asks Kate, voicing the one question that's been praying on her mind since Vaughn showed up at the party; materializing like a specter come back to haunt them.

"_Seriously?_" asks Castle, his face like thunder.

"It's a valid question," insists Kate, standing her ground. "One minute we're talking about moving in together and then this guy shows up and all of a sudden marriage is on the table? Seems like suspicious timing to me."

"I asked if you wanted to have a baby with me tonight," points out Castle, his voice frighteningly controlled all of a sudden. "And you doubt whether marriage was on my mind?"

"Let's just go home. I'm tired. I don't want to do this here."

Castle catches Kate's arm to prevent her stepping off the curb when a car suddenly approaches from the left, and she winces, pulling away from him to cradle her wrist.

"What the hell is that?" asks Castle, gently reclaiming her arm to examine her wrist, which now has a purple mark around it where her bracelet was forced into her skin by Vaughn's grip.

"Nothing," she tells him, pulling away and hurrying across the street to get into the back of the car.

"Kate, that is not nothing. Did he do that to you? Did Vaughn hurt you?" Castle demands.

"I said it's nothing, Castle. I handled it. Okay? Now let's just go home."

* * *

They begin the car ride in stony silence. Kate is heartbroken by how tonight has turned out, as much for Castle as for herself, but she can't seem to find the words to tell him that. The one question she's fixated on is whether Castle saw Vaughn and only decided to propose to her as a result. She can't get it out of her head, that the proposal was a knee-jerk reaction to seeing the entrepreneur again; just some way to lay claim to her in front of the guy. But if that's what it was, his planned failed spectacularly.

The car glides along the edge of Central Park, past Grand Army Plaza, some of the best, most romantic sights New York City by night has to offer passing them by. But both remain oblivious to its beauty, too deep in mourning for the wonderful finale tonight's party could have held for them.

All too soon, the car is turning off Fifth Avenue onto East 8th Street, bringing them to the junction with Broadway. Kate stares out of one window and Castle out of the other, a cold, silent space opened up between then again. Her wrist aches in her lap, a painful reminder of how she got things so wrong when she fell for Eric Vaughn's charm the first time she met him. Five more minutes and they're turning left on Spring, right onto Lafayette, before covering the final few blocks to the corner of Crosby and Broome.

The driver bids them goodnight and thanks Castle for the tip he presses into his palm when he holds the door open for Kate.

She feels like weeping, but is too emotionally exhausted, devastated that things have turned into such an unholy mess, none of it of their making, if she's honest, save for a failure to communicate.

* * *

Another silent, sullen elevator ride up to the loft, and a weary fish around in her clutch for the single set of keys they have with them, follows.

Martha is sitting alone watching television, a glass of red wine in one hand, and she raises a welcoming, smiling face to them as soon as they come in.

"Well?" she asks, cheerfully. "Did you knock 'em all dead?"

"Not now, mother," snaps Castle, marching straight past her towards the bedroom.

Kate shakes her head silently at Martha when she begins to ask, "What did _I_ do?" advising her just to let him go.

She's about to sit down beside Castle's mother when he reappears, his jacket off, but other than that still dressed as before.

"Can I talk to you for a second?" he asks Kate, his face fractionally more open, though he still looks unhappy or serious or something Kate can't quite put her finger on. Maybe determined is a good way to describe him. But she's not sure she could read him if she tried right now.

"Uh…sure," she says, following him into the bedroom with a frown.

She casts a concerned glance at Martha as she goes, raising her hand in a half-wave when the older woman offers her a smile of encouragement.

* * *

Castle is standing on his side of the bed waiting for her, hands clenched by his sides. His back is turned to her, so she can't see his expression when she enters the bedroom.

"Close the door," he tells her, tersely, rubbing a hand down over his face, one leg jiggling ceaselessly.

"Look, I don't know what you think you saw tonight, Castle, but…"

"It's fine, Kate. You don't have to explain," he cuts in, shaking his head, almost as if he's afraid to hear what she has to say.

"But, I _want_ to. And I think you need to hear this. Castle, I went into that kitchen looking for _you_, not Vaughn. He just happened to be there when I…"

"I said none of that matters anymore," interjects Castle, the tone of his voice alerting her to a finality in what he's just said. "As long as he didn't hurt you," he adds, finally turning round to look at her.

"No," Kate reassures him, shaking her head. "No, he...he didn't. But, I did get a chance to set the record straight. To tell him what I should have told him in the first place. That I'm with you and it's serious. We're a couple. And I'm sorry if I ever made you doubt that."

Kate takes a few steps towards him, but is halted midway across the floor when Castle holds up a hand to stop her getting any closer.

"Please. I just…I need to say something now. If you'll just listen."

"Uh...yeah. Sure," she replies, hesitantly, wrapping her arms around her own body, terrified of what she believes to be coming next.

"Kate, you asked if my proposal tonight was in response to Vaughn showing up at that party. And I can understand why you might have thought that. But, you were wrong. Nothing could be further from the truth. And if you need proof," he tells her, suddenly dropping to one knee and holding up the engagement ring, "then here it is."

The room is silent, save for Kate's sudden intake of breath.

"Kate, I love you. I love you with all my heart. I asked you once already and I didn't make a very good job of it, so, I'm going to ask you again. Katherine Beckett, will you marry me?"

The anger is suddenly gone from his face, smoothed away to be replaced by a look of loving tenderness and hopeful expectation she has come to expect from him.

"Castle…" she whispers, a nervous bubble of laughter building in her throat, half choke, half sob.

"Look, I don't care about any of that other stuff. This just feels different to me. How we are with one another. You've stopped running, and I'm not saying that things between us are perfect. We still have work to do. But everything we've talked about today, how close we were tonight after almost tearing each other apart… That tells me that this is right, Kate. That we have something real. And...I just...I want to be with you. I want us to make a future together, and I'm pretty sure we have what it takes to make that happen. Now, if you need time, I understand. Two proposals in one night might be…"

"_Yes!_" blurts Kate, her hand flying up to cover her mouth, shielding her tearful smile from him and capturing a sob, the other hand pressed over her racing heart.

"Was…was that your answer or are you just agreeing with me?" asks Castle, his eyes wide, breath held in anticipation.

Kate nods vigorously.

"No. I mean, yes. _Yes_, is my answer. And yes, I agree with you too. To hell with everything else. I love you, Castle. This is it for me."

Castle immediately gets to his feet, hurrying towards her. They meet in the middle of the room, and Kate holds out her arms to him, and they fall into a dizzying embrace, holding onto one another as tightly as they dare.

"Oh, I love you," he whispers, soothing her, rocking her, kissing her damp cheeks, her eyes, her smile, her hair. "I love you so much."

"We're getting married," whispers Kate in disbelief, her forehead resting against his, her breathing shallow, her heart hammering, hands reaching up to cup his face. "We're getting married."

"Sounds crazy, doesn't it?" acknowledges Castle, stroking his hand up and down her back. "So, how about you let me put that ring on your finger and we make it official?"

Kate eases back enough to hold out her left hand, fresh tears welling in her eyes to blur her vision.

"Your hands are shaking," remarks Castle, as he slides the diamond-encrusted, platinum band onto her finger.

"It's so beautiful," breathes Kate, staring at the ring in amazement – an unusual oval cut diamond, bordered by two smaller diamonds on either shoulder, the band itself encrusted with pave gemstones that dazzle in the lamplight.

"And you had this? The whole time we were fighting, you already had this?" she asks, looking up at him to search his face.

Castle nods, admiring the engagement ring now that it's actually on her finger, instead of sitting lifeless in a box at the back of a drawer, as she twists her hand back and forth letting the diamonds catch the light just as he did, all by himself, not four hours ago.

"I needed to be sure," he admits quietly, kissing her temple.

"Of me?"

"No. I needed to be sure of me. That I could count on myself to work through the things that were holding me back from committing to you and not just…shut down again. You know me, Kate. And yet you're still here."

"And you know _me," _she insists, squeezing his hand. "So...trust issues?" she suggests.

"Trust. My own past failures. Jealousy. Wondering if I deserved you, if this was what you wanted. Was I good enough, smart enough. All of that."

"And you picked Gates' party to reach your epiphany?" she smiles, giving him a tender, indulgent look.

"I didn't want to wait anymore. Tonight...it just...it felt right."

"You never were one to do things small, were you?" laughs Kate, kissing him again and running a hand through his hair, cradling him to her.

"Nope. Go big or go home about sums me up. And now that we are home…" he grins, gently smoothing the hair away from her face, caressing her cheek with his thumb. "Come to bed with me?"

* * *

Kate kisses him, her body set on fire the second their lips meet, chasing after one another, tongues probing, teasing, both breathing heavily, her head spinning with a surge of desire for the man she's just agreed to marry.

When they part, it's on a groan of displeasure from Castle, his fingers clutching her body tightly to keep her close to him. Kate drops her head onto his chest and leans into him, wrapping her arms around his waist.

"Your mom. Castle, she's out there by herself wondering what the heck is going on. You should go talk to her. Let her know that everything is okay between us at least."

"You sure you're ready for this? For all the fuss and the hoopla that's coming? Because those two are going to want in on this wedding, I'm warning you."

"Are _you_?" she grins, eyes dancing with excitement.

"With you by my side? I think I'm ready for anything."

"Now that's just sappy," laughs Kate, slapping his chest.

"You don't like sappy, detective? You want manly instead? Because I can do manly, Kate Beckett," he growls, picking her up and dumping her on the bed in a giggling heap, before draping himself on top of her.

"Your mom," reminds Kate, a couple of minutes later, before they get beyond the point of no return; his hand already under her dress, his pants unzipped.

"Ugh," groans Castle, thumping the mattress. "You're too considerate," he whines.

"Gotta keep my mother-in-law sweet. You'll thank me in the long run," she promises, patting his cheek and rolling out from under him.

"Breakfast in bed tomorrow?" he cajoles, dragging her back into his lap for a cuddle, pressing a kiss to her bare back.

"If you're cooking?"

"When am I not cooking?"

"Are you complaining about your wife already," murmurs Kate, leaning in to brush her smiling lips over his, stroking inside his mouth with her tongue, fingers gently toying with his ear and the soft hair at the back of neck.

"Never," mumbles Castle, his eyes drifting closed at her soothing touch, as they tumble backwards on to the bed again, grinning. "Never."

* * *

_A/N: Okay guys, we've reached the end of the road on this one. Thank you for travelling with me on this Caskett journey of self-discovery. Until we meet again. Thank you so much for all the funny, threatening, cajoling, heartfelt reviews. You're amazing and you make it all worthwhile. Liv _


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